T I M E
by CGKrows
Summary: TIME was exactly what its name referred to: Time. It influenced it somehow, taking me to a world I never was born into. Not even photos could have helped alleviate my utter shock. Was this even my world? Everything was just turned around to me. Now I was faced with the complications of time and space, all which seemed to now be contained within the little silver-green device. T/M
1. The Internet Hub is a Time Machine?

**Chapter 1: This 'Internet Hub' is a Time Machine?**

There is something about the world that fascinates me. The way it behaves, its evolution, the past, present, and future... It captures my thoughts like no other. But that simple fascination became my downfall that day back home at my lovely little chuck of land.

My name is Amelia, and I am myself. Associates and friends address me as 'Miss Walker,' though I more often than not urge them to never be formal around me. It makes me feel strange, like I've reached the age of sixty; A mirror image of my 78 year-old mother when she was sixty.

And being exactly like my mother is not exactly a good thing.

Presently, I am a youthful twenty-three. I live in Sacramento, California, just as most of my ancestors have. I own a single acre, with a self-supplying well system and a solitary Yurt to live in. I'm designated as the hippie of the neighborhood, with a legitimate small-scale red wood forest growing on my property contained by a thick brick wall and iron gates. There are exactly three hounds, five families of crows, and one falcon that I take care of on my semi-large property. Any other creature lives on it's own. A shed stands about three feet away from my Yurt, storing all my outdoor tools and car parts. Said car is an old blue Toyota pickup, with the 'OTA' painted over leaving 'TOY.' It was parked on a dirt path that stopped conveniently in front of a large red wood tree, which I named Lord Rojo. Ingenious, yes?

Now, you are probably wondering how I came to live here on this strange piece of property with all its trees and Yurt-ness. Well, before my parents had been shoved into a old people's home by my elder sister, they had bought a self-sustaining property with the impression of surviving some crazy apocalypse. You know, economic crash pandemonium in the streets, the day of reckoning for all mankind and only those prepared to survive would live on, all that mumbo-jumbo.

Well, let's just say it didn't come quick enough for my elderly parental units.

My father was fast approaching seventy-eight and my mother coming close behind at around sixty-four. Honestly, there was no way my sister would allow them to continue their plans. I had just completed college, bearing a Masters in Art Practice, Digital Arts, and History within a short span of the average four years. I had my mother's brilliance and my father's love for nature, not to mention an array of artistic talents. My art went viral all over DeviantArt nowadays. Everything seemed great for me, but not so good for my parents.

So, as a family, we killed two birds with one stone. I had yet to find somewhere to settle or job hunt, and my dearly beloved Mumzot and Fathza (my version of father mother extended English style) had not desire to sell the acre. They even had the components for the Yurt! A few days later, I had claimed full ownership of the acre and lived in the extremely large Yurt with nothing but the basics for three weeks.

Then I got a job! Oh, it was a BEYOND awesome day. Google hired me part-time for art designing and development, and the the downtown art museum needed a on-call curator. I accepted both, and ended up with enough money over a year to have all I have now.

And we find ourselves back here with me, Amelia Walker, wistfully thinking about sleep. The only bill I pay on this acre was electrical, which I left for my accountant to do for me. I owned an iPhone 4S (recent splurge with the prices dropping because of the new iPhone 5) and a Dell laptop for my busy job. Anything else techy was donated or highjacked. It was just how it worked with me.

Today was one of those days when I neglected leaving the bed at all, surrounding myself in blankets and programming some new visual templates on my Dell. The all-powerful iPhone was plugged into said computer, charging diligently. Nothing was at all wrong. The dogs were fed, the crows got their leftovers, and the falcon flew off to the American River to eat mice.

The only thing I really had to focus on besides my work was the time. At about two o'clock, a new prototype from Google was supposed to come in. My close friend Delilah wanted all the developers to try her new project out, and I was one of those developers. That was another one of the reasons my small Yurt was littered with electronics. Thankfully I devised a bin system for this type of problem, so the chaos had been long fixed (Though the occasional hard-drive or phone would be found under a piece of furniture).

Anxious for Delilah's package, I glanced at the digitized clock in the corner of the desktop for the tenth time this morning. _1:30 AM_, it should be arriving momentarily! FINALLY...

Groaning quietly with my stiffened limbs, I climbed out of my floor mattress with my Dell abandoned. I shuffled to the old closet to the side of the Yurt, opening it to sift through all the different clothing articles. In a very sluggish fashion, I threw my sweats off. I stood there in only my undergarments, which consisted of a grey bra and black women's boxers. Then at random I pulled out a baggy yet faded male dress shirt along with worn blue jeans, sloppily pulling them on. I put my hair up lazily in a messy ponytail, making me appear to be a middle-aged tomboy.

I don't really have an astounding appearance, being about five foot four inches. I have tanned skin, a trait I gained from my mother. She was Native American, and my father was descended from Swiss-Germans. My hair and skin were my mother's, though the tone of the exterior flesh was not as dark as hers but moderate. I had hazel-green eyes, a recessive gene that decided to take precedence when I was conceived. Semi-thick eyelashes and a lean body type, that was me. Then take into account what I was wearing as well as a silver crow charm around my neck, I am a sight for sore eyes.

Slipping into a pair of comfy moccasins, I jogged out of the Yurt through the tree-covered property. My energetic hounds barked joyously and ran after me for a few paces, only to give up moments later. I paused before the iron gate to my little slice of heaven, pressing a button on my keyring and opening it. I strolled through, waiting patiently for the package to arrive.

About ten or so minutes later sitting on the curb, a UPS truck drove up. Out came the usual package-delivery man, Murray. He was an African American with a somewhat burly figure, wearing the usual uniform with the package under his arm and a clipboard in hand. Murray gave me his million dollar grin, his dark eyes twinkling with that cheerful spark of his.

"Hey there, Am! How's dem hounds a doin'? Eatin' well?" asked Murray, optimistic as ever.

"Murray!," I yelled, giving him an awkward hug with his arms still full. "And my troublesome trio are doing just fine. I'm the neighborhood hippie after all! Can't allow nature's creatures to die, eh?" I joked. The man chuckled in response, shaking his head.

"Oh, that's what they always say when they be people like you. They can't understand the need of dem' trees, with dem' all cuttin' faster than an angry fury." I smiled at his comment, knowing well that his kindness always seemed boundless.

He offered the clipboard, then gestured to the package under his armpit. "Seems you got another one of dem' packages again. Is this from Delilah, or some other tech junker from 'dat internet 'ompany?"

"Delilah. She's been inventing more phone models, and she _demands_ all the developers try out the prototype. That woman is going to be the death of us all, I swear." I easily signed the clipboard, legally accepting and acknowledging my package. Murray handed the box to me, turning to the UPS truck with the speedy step.

"See ya later, Am. Hope that prototype doesn't give ya too much trouble. They always do..."

With that, Murray drove off. I closed the gate behind me as I went back to the Yurt, package in hand. Slipping inside, I flopped onto my floor mattress with the cardboard box in my lap. The usual see-through packing tape covered the surface, my address clearly stated on the right hand corner. Printed onto the cardboard was a strange-looking logo, reminiscent of the Xbox 360 insignia; Just cooler. Four black capital letters were displayed below the image, spelling _**T I M E**_ in bold.

_What a name for a prototype android phone_, I thought. I didn't really question the maddening genius of my best friend Delilah, knowing that it was better to just go with it than wonder what drove her to do anything.

So without further consideration of what could miraculously occur, I took a small pocket knife to the taped-up cardboard box. The innards of this package were then revealed for my analyzation, though there was little to really analyze at all. Beneath a number of bubble-wrap layers was a thick chunk of styrofoam, melded to hold three different things: a large stack of instruction booklets, an ample amount of leather cord, and the **_T I M E_** device itself.

The first thought that came to my mind was a mouse crossed with the version of the Xbox 360 insignia. I really couldn't describe it any other way. The shape was like an old Apple PC mouse, but there was no clicker. It was just some device, bearing a bright green X that looked like it would suddenly open up wide to display what was inside.

_Well, this is chill. _I reached for the starter booklet, pulling free the **_T I M E_** as I went. I flipped to the first page after the _Terms and Conditions _section, titled _How To Quick-Start Your Device._

* * *

**To immediately start your new ****_T I M E_**** technology, follow the steps below:**

**1. Turn on the ****_T I M E_**** device. Press and hold the center of the device, then slide your index finger to the left if Female and right if Male. (This will help maximize the efficiency of the product)**

**2. Access the Device through the Wi-Fi Internet from your Phone, Mp3, or Laptop. (iPhone 4 and higher recommended)**

**3. A pop-up will appear on your screen. Select 'Agree' and the ****_T I M E_**** Application will begin to download.**

**4. After the ****_T I M E_**** App is downloaded, open the program at your leisure and begin your experience!**

* * *

In all honesty, it would be a lie if I said these quick-start instructions didn't confuse me. This little piece of tech wasn't a phone? I thought the big shots wanted Delilah to focus on improving Android phones. Was this a recent last-minute plan for a new product to market?

Of what I could tell from the instructions and the appearance of the **_T I M E_** device, it was basically Google's version of Apple's Time Capsule. It could be accessed by other platforms for information (which I assumed was through this Application the booklet was blabbering about) and would also be useful for Wi-Fi.

And wow, if this is what the new tech would be like, Google was going to _crush_ the competition. **_T I M E_** was shockingly small for a storage device, though it really depended on how much memory it could store. Or did it do that at all? Questionable. I was just a designer, not a Tech Engineer like Delilah.

No longer questioning the motives of this gadget's creator(s), I followed the required steps. Pressing hard on the center of the gizmo with my right index finger and thumb underneath, it blinked to life with a mesmerizing acid green. Placing it in my left palm, I slid the same index finger to the left, confirming my gender for 'maximum experience.'

Plopping the glowing green device down, I reached for my fully-charged iPhone. Sliding the bar across the bottom, the menu lit up the screen. Tapping 'Settings,' I quickly went through the tabs and linked up to the _**T I M E**_ Wi-Fi. Within seconds the supposed window appeared on the screen, asking if I was certain about downloading the application. I tapped 'Agree' carelessly, watching as the little icon popped into existence.

Then things started going downhill from there. The buffer seemed to be having a hard time with the installation process, and the thin blue bar inched along at a snail's pace. I visibly frowned. It was going to be taking awhile.

Unable to hold still long enough, I hopped from my floor mattress and snatched my trusty threadbare canvas backpack. I tossed the flaps back, revealing the empty depths of the carrier. Lazily I threw a random variety of items into the pack, not really paying attention to what was being put in. I briefly paused in this silly process, checking my phone to find it only was halfway done. Sighing, I continued packing the backpack until I deemed it a satisfying status of full.

I glanced sideways at the screen the iPhone, another sigh escaping my lips. I wanted to leave for Delilah's place as soon as it was done downloading, so I could understand understand what the hell this piece of tech was for. I was dressed and ready for everything, but the stupid Application was holding up the parade.

A soft tinkle of bells sounded from the Apple product, signaling the completion of the new **_T I M E_** application. I dramatically threw on my pack, slinging it on my left shoulder. At last! May my travels begin!

Or so I thought.

A noise, one different from the alert that had previously sounded, rang in my solitary Yurt. I paused suddenly, stumbling slightly. My right hand pulled out my iPhone once again, though hesitantly. I slid the bar, unlocking the phone. A program menu I had never seen in my life flashed on the screen, with an alert just below it.

"_Welcome, Amelia. Traveling process beginning in sixty second_s," spoke a suave feminine robotic voice.

What?

Then, in what appeared to my eyes in slow motion, was a sudden pulse of green, a sense of unfathomable power and mystery reverberating against the inner walls of my Yurt like tidal waves. The light seemed to wind its way around my body, placing my senses in a buzzing state. My sight was becoming unclear, yet behind my eyes I felt as if my insides were charged by warming static.

Time jumped right back on track, forcing me away from the maddening experience. A myriad of neon tones flashed and whizzed before and behind my eyes, overwhelming me. What was happening? Where was I? The crazed jumble of sensations drove me over the edge of my own understanding. Everything was green. There were no further words to explain it.

In a blink of my unseeing eyes, it all abruptly stopped. I was falling fast, the ground below a looking to be concrete. _This is going to hurt in the morning_, I thought bitterly.

CRASH.

Well, in the end I flew face first into a collection of old tin trashcans. Not exactly better than the ground, but I should be thankful it broke some of the fall. My head spun, body aching.

And there was only anger left in me moments after. _That stupid gadget isn't for a god damn phone! It's not even a Google product! I demand..._

I cut myself off in mid-thought, realizing where I was. Here I was in a back alley, in the corner of the dead end amongst the damaged cans for trash. The walls of the buildings were covered in World War II posters of all sorts, some promoting the collection of scrap metals, others to enroll. One stood out amid them all, the image of Uncle Sam himself with his wagging finger, saying that whoever stared at his paper entity should help their country.

A small sewage cover was a few paces away, smoking from the cold air. The fact that it was cold and the graffiti along the alley spelled out Brooklyn in Cursive screamed about the past. I looked down at myself as well, noting the fact my comfy man-clothes were gone and replaced with rehemmed or better yet recut men's dress suit. That was the thing to do during the War, with the men all off to the front and the women left behind to ration their resources.

The cloth was a deep brown pinstripe for both pants and jacket, yet a nice cream for the shirt. A little feminine scarf hung around my collar, though its pattern was distinctly Native instead of the usual colored paisleys. My silver crow charm also was on for display, looking a good deal shinier than I remembered. There was no makeup on my face as far as I could tell, and my shoes were semi-formal flats of a lighter oak tone.

And finally there was my backpack and the troublesome piece of technology itself. _**T I M E**_ hung from the leather cord that had come with it around my wrist, th cord itself cutting into my circulation and wound numerous times. The pack on the other hand was perfectly fine, the whole threadbare and old-fashioned look saving it from being 'changed.'

Then my mind flew back to the current situation.

**_T I M E_** was exactly what its name referred to: Time. It influenced it somehow, taking me to a world I never was born into. Not even photos could have helped alleviate my utter shock. Was this even my world? Everything was just turned around to me. Not to mention Time wasn't in my favor... Native Americans were as badly treated as Blacks and Asians. We weren't part of the 'normal' American populace, and people these days didn't care if you have a mother or father that was White. If you looked the part, you'd accept your part.

Just fucking peachy...

* * *

I was still standing around, away from the now demolished garbage cans and pondering my situation, when all of a sudden I once again nearly go flying right back into those cans by a man my height, only mere inches from me. _The poor abused tin containers were going through hell today, with all these people collapsing on them._

Another man appeared, obviously bigger and physically dominating than the nameless man amongst the trashcans. He had a undesirable mug of a face, gruff and obviously opt to push those lower than him around as he well pleased. Very murky brown eyes with badly cut hair, slicked back the wrong way with bits of it shooting out like twigs. The men's suit he wore looked tacky and mildly sleazy, leaving the need to befriend him wanting. It was also mismatched, with light grey slacks, a golden-yellow collared shirt and a wide pinstripe suit-jacket. This taller man immediately went on my shit list. As my mother always said, "There is no Honor in defeating the Weak."

Yet here this large gruff man was, already rushing at the smaller man with his curled fist flying every which way. But I give credit to the weaker of the two, he could take on one hell of a beating. Just as I was about to intervene, the heavier male paused. A disgusting grin splattered his facial features, a sick sense of triumph radiating from his despicable person.

"You just don't know when to give up, do 'ya?" spoke the grinning man, a thick Brooklyn accent obvious in his voice.

The other stood there, breathing heavily. I took that moment to observe his features, noting that he was my exact height. The smaller male was quite thin, most likely anemic or victim to heart problems. He dressed nicely, reminding me of a little gentleman from some Dickens novel. Don't ask me why. Dark slacks, a slightly lighter grayish suit-jacket with a cream collared shirt and patterned tie seemed right on him. His face was attractive, light skin of a white man and the stereotypical rich blonde hair with soft baby-blue eyes. They looked very expressive on his pretty visage, alight with thoughts and emotions that could be seen by all the world like an open book.

After regaining a certain level of composure, the 'little gentleman' answered with confidence. "I could do this all day," He spoke bravely, though he was still breathless.

Then he grabbed at a dented tin trashcan lid, wielding it like a Spartan warrior with a bit of a flourish. The taller chuckled, then shoved the smaller over to the ground, trapping him in a corner. That lid fell off to the side, out of his reach.

_I can't take it any longer,_ I thought angrily.

As the next fist flew, I leapt into the fray. My small calloused hands caught his wrist now aimed at my face, and with a desperate fling I caused the taller male to fly back against the poster-covered wall. Somehow I had caught him off guard, and was lucky enough to even throw him off balance.

Long time ago, when I was in middle school, I used to get into all sorts of fights with guys or girls. I was a Native American half-breed, small and opt to anger. It was just that age window when your hormones throw you off, and all of middle school was a mess of anger and fists. But I didn't pursue that path for long, and in the end lost all that powerful muscle mass. Now I pitied myself, wondering why I gave up that wild side of me. Sure I was an artist, but right now it would help if I could jab this man some!

Said man was furious and confused, slumped slightly from the impact he had with the brick walls of the alley. Quickly unraveling the **_T I M E_** device and slipping it around my neck to join my crow charm, I readied my stance and stared directly into his brown mucked eyes. The little man stared at my form from behind me, a look of shock and slight awe on his face.

Unknown to me, this large man I was engaging was mildly nervous. He knew he could overpower me, or at least he thought he could, but he knew better than to mess with Redskins. The man got in a fight with one once, and it didn't go down well when his opponent got smart. He hated them just as much as those stupid negros that lived around the district. I was no different.

As he stared back, I quickly glanced over to the trash cans. Buried under the muddle of rubbish was a old wooden bat._ I guess could use that_, I thought with some sarcasm.

Waiting a few more moments, I acted. Lunging for the bat, the heavier male went right after me. As I grasped the weapon, his hands yanked at my waist, pulling me towards his torso. _OH HELL NO! _I wretched myself violently from his grasp, swiveling on my heels and landing a swing to his head. Since I wasn't strong, it didn't cause him to develop a concussion. _That's quite a pity_, I thought dryly with a slight frown_._ My opponent fell to the ground, much to the surprise of the little man. He had tried to move, to act immediately after the creeper grabbed at me, but it appeared as if he had stumbled over the shit-garbage and face-planted. The sentiment of the action made me respect this short guy. People who'd try and stick their necks out for others were hard to come by for people like me. But, even if it did backfire, I had successfully ended the confrontation. _Go me!_

With that, the larger man was writhing on the ground, his hands cradling his face. I tossed the bat away, dusting my hands off in front of me. Sighing, I turned away from the scene to the little gentleman I had aided. He was staring at me with an strange look in his eyes, though I did not comment on it. The tin lid had been long abandoned, and now he simply stood with a ruffled and dusty suit. He looked adorable really, which I did not voice. After a few moments, he realized I had been staring back at him. He blushed very faintly, glancing away sharply.

Unsure of what to say, I abruptly shot my hand out. "I'm Amelia Walker," I said, voice firm. My smile was somewhat sheepish, but his was just as much after he looked back.

He slowly took mine, shaking it lightly. "Steve Rogers... Thanks for the help."

Steve still looked mildly flustered, with his cheeks still dusted with pink, but nonetheless he was still confident after all that had transpired. I smirked, patting his shoulder. "Anytime, Steve. Just next fight, don't trap yourself in corners. It doesn't work out, and I know this from experience," I spoke easily, with a sense of friendliness in my voice.

"Uh, yeah," he stated blankly. He looked away, blinking a few times. Looking back, the small male had a slightly perturbed look on his face. "Ah, I forgot my manners, Ma'am! Would you like to go to a coffee shop? I know one a few blocks away, they serve pretty good...Well, coffee," he hurriedly explained, sounding nervous.

I blinked in surprise. The idea of coffee just made me extremely peckish for a pastry. Man, pastries. "Do they have pastries?" I asked in a childishly excited voice, forgetting myself for a moment.

Steve blinked at my infant-like question, but not seconds later smiled; A genuine smile. "If I say Yes, does that mean you'll come?"

I nodded, smiling right back. He then offered his arm, to which to carefully took. Sweet Mercy, my day became a turn-around. From strange boxes to time traveling electronic devices, I finally get some type of normal action. Though I don't exactly think getting coffee with some guy in the forties is normal, but Hey! At least I might make a friend. With friends comes security, as well as the aid I needed right about now. Maybe this whole ordeal wasn't so bad as it seemed.

Little did I know, I was no longer in my world at all, stuck in a universe dated back during the second World War. And the guy I linked arms with was Captain America, before his great transformation.


	2. The Forties and All Its Confusion

_Just to clear things up for my readers, the actual Avengers movie will not take place just yet. I am going to be time jumping all over the place with every character movie before that happens, developing a hard-core Plot with a very resourceful part Native American artist character as the spotlight. Hope you like LONG stories, cuz this is going to be one._

_P.S. Cap comes first, then in a proper order of Iron Man, Incredible Hulk, Iron Man 2, Thor, and then to the fun of Avengers! Most of this is in order of the movie release, so Hulk and Iron Man will be set in 2008 whilst Thor and Iron Man 2 in 2011. Obviously Avengers will be 2012. With that, continue reading?!_

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Forties and All Its Confusion With It**

Today certainly came out differently than I had expected. What I had thought to be a day of trial runs on techy prototypes, turned out to really be a day where miniature Time Machine that could change my life. I doubt there would be any person who could coherently handle this type of situation. Luckily, it seems I can... Barely.

It all boils down to this in my mind: A mysterious piece of technology was mailed to my address, not created by the maddening co-worker and my best friend Delilah. I foolishly try to believe it is, only to end up jumping through what seems to have been time (though I could have also jumped right threw space like The Doctor) with only my backpack to the Forties. Then I end up saving some man's skin and pride, somehow defeating his gruff opponent with a desperate swing only a rotting baseball bat could deal.

Now here I am, mildly confused by the strange chain of events, and taking up a small man's offer to hang out at a coffee shop. He was very polite in my opinion, though quite the clumsy speaker. I had a feeling that he wasn't really used to women, not that I can blame him. The female species is quite a complex group of living organisms. Unfortunately, I'm one of them.

As we were silently walking the streets of what I assumed to be Brooklyn, which I had deduced from the graffiti that had been in the alleyway, I was trying to memorize the names of avenues and crossways, or simply trying to familiarize myself with random landmarks. I came from the other side of America all together, and they did things differently than the west coast. But I am a partially personal individual, so I kept my own thoughts and comments to myself.

Or at least until the silence was promptly broken.

"If you don't mind me asking Ma'am, but you seem to be new to Brooklyn. How did you end up here?" Asked my companion, whose name I think was Steve Rogers. Liked the name, Steve. Good name.

I let out a nervous chuckle, a crooked smile on my face. "Let's just say I 'dropped' on into town. I've lived in California all my life, and left only four times. None of those places were New York; only Boston, Rhode Island, along with parts of Michigan and Illinois."

Steve nodded. "Then you don't have a place to stay?"

My face fell. Oh bother, I hadn't thought that far ahead! I didn't know how long I was going to be stuck here, since I kind of skipped the instruction booklets for **_T I M E_** and went right to quick-start.

Rogers must have noticed, because he quickly countered. "But my place is open, or at least I think a good friend of mine could help you. He's a guy manned Barnes, Bucky to me. He's got a soft spot for women, so I bet he can let you stay for a bit at his place." Steve said this all in a worried rush, blushing now and then lightly like before, as if he was saying something wholly wrong and improper. As he finished his rambling explanation, Rogers briefly met my unwavering gaze, only to literally blush a vibrant rose and turn his head away.

I chuckled shamelessly, amused by his sheepish actions. He acts quite bashful, even when my arm is linked with his and we're walking along the sidewalk in public. A few pedestrians had given us heated looks as they passed by, and some with blatant distaste.

My mother recalled to me the stories her father had told her about his father, who had been drafted in the Army and treated not so nicely by the American Whites. I could now empathize with my relative, with the way those people stared or even glared. But the fact Steve, who now behaved calmly, seemed to not even be bothered by this treatment mildly shocked me. Views were different (obviously) for each century, and the fact a guy like Rogers was comfortable with it was really... Admirable. If someone was like him in 2012, he'd stereotypically be on weed and alcohol. Sad how that always seems to go.

"That'd be aw-Great, thanks for the offer! I only have this backpack full of things, so it shouldn't be too hard to find a place to shack up," I answered moments later, having finished dwelling on the future. I was inches away from saying 'awesome' or 'chill,' which made me cautious of what I had to say. If I slipped up once, people (Steve specifically) would start having their suspicions.

Thankfully I was saved by our arrival at the quaint little coffee shop Steve had mentioned, the name _Cafe de Cruz_ written clearly above the windows. Rogers detached himself from my arm, walking to the door and opening it wide for me like the little gentleman he seemed to be. I smiled, and walked right in.

The shop was dimly lit, the mixture of weak sunlight and natural lighting creating a calm yet almost depressed air. _Well, it is the Forties. The Depression probably happened when Steve was a kid. With the Second World War going on, I'm surprised this shop is even in business_, I thought.

It was the basic layout of a standard diner, only much more practical and less flashy than its later counterparts from the sixties and seventies. Every counter and tabletop was made from a darkly colored wood, the walls painted a semi-neutral tan with sephia photos or contemporary paintings hanging from unseen nails. Lighter wood, most likely Birch, planked the lower wall in an even perimeter, the traditional planked style with Victorian trim. The floor too was planked wood, a reddish tone to contrast with the lighter and darker limber.

Steve joined me a few moments later, briefly surveying the scene unlike my critical observation of 'the past.'

"Let's pick a table," he decided, "There are quite a few to pick from, though I'm sorry this isn't any kind of fine dining."

I smirked. "Eh," I voiced, waving my hand in a shooing movement, "Who needs fine dining when food is short and life is hard?" I walked over to what I deemed to be a satisfactory booth, placed in a corner right beside a small window off to the side. I continued addressing Steve, "Another wise thing someone in my family once said, if I remember correctly, was 'A modest living is a good enough living for me, and money or fame aren't the answer to trouble; It's work.'"

"Your family seems to have a knack for sayings," commented Steve, seating himself across from me at the booth. I still had a smirk on my face, which seemed to have become infectious to the male.

"Heh, my mother and father lived and _BREATHED_ literature. The phrase 'Knowledge is Power' truly applies to them, even now. My sister too, she's a crazy academic. Give her French or German poetry and she'll be able to argue the rhetoric of it within moments."

Steve raised a curious eyebrow, "Crazy? That's an interesting way of describing her."

I shrugged, "We're extremely different individuals, my sister and I. Our family is built on Art and Knowledge. My dad loved ceramics, mom could draw or paint, and my sister could dance. Father knew enough about the natural ecosystem of California to write entire volumes of books. Mom knew the basics of engineering and drafting from my grandpa, though she couldn't exactly pursue that line of work.

I paused in my explanation, noticing the waitress. Politely, Steve ordered us two cups of the house blend coffee, as well as a pair of chocolate croissants. _They have decaf_? I didn't bother asking. After the waitress left, Rogers urged me to continue. He appeared interested, to say the least.

I obligingly went on, "So, when my mom had my sister, who might I add is the oldest, she inherited the brains of mom and the looks of my dad." I smiled, a distant look in my eyes.

Steve smiled too, "What did she look like?"

"Oh, very attractive. Pale skin, strong blue eyes, and a distinct nose that you could tell came from father's side of the family. Cedar colored hair, which was very curly and fly away. Her figure was gently curved, and tall compared to my mother or myself. She's basically White while I'm Red," I finished, using the more familiar terms for Native Americans and Caucasians. If I started throwing those words around, heads'd be turning for sure.

His face fell into a minor frown. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

I looked at him like he was a crazed lunatic. "I don't know about you, but getting in fights with the delinquents at school because they were racist isn't exactly favorable."

Steve looked stricken within seconds, quickly gaining my guilt. "Not that I am holding it against you or anything!" I declared, waving my hands about frantically. Those expressive baby-blue eyes of his just make me crack into pieces!

"It's not that," he confessed, "I actually do understand... About the fights I mean. You saw earlier today; Not exactly King Kong on call, that's for sure. I'm just a kid from Brooklyn."

I nodded. "I guess birds of a feather flock together, eh?"

He grinned, which I easily returned. Steve's smiles seemed to be just as infectious as mine, and the way his pale baby-blue orbs would light up was quite a sight. A few minutes later, a different waitress came to our table. Her eyes fell on me, mirroring her unhappiness towards my presence._ God, I can't wait til' I get back to 2012. At least then I won't have to deal with discrimination every which way I turn._

The woman set her platter down, unloading the croissants and coffee. She glanced at Steve too, giving him a glare. It was obvious she was angry at my new friend because she was afraid I'd scare off customers, but with a just as harsh a glare from Rogers sent right back at her, the waitress turned and went on her way. _Gold star for Steve Rogers! Take that, frilly maid service!_

Steve then arranged the plates on the table, giving me my French pastry and coffee. We were silent for awhile, eating bits and pieces of our pastry whilst nursing the delicious cups of coffee. It was a companionable silence, which I think both of us were grateful for.

But Rogers couldn't keep quiet with his questions for long.

"So," he started, "Have you ever been to the Stark Expo?" I gave him a quizzical look. Stark... Expo? Iron Man comics suddenly came to mind, but I tossed that idea away. A fictional billionaire superhero from my time _here_? Bah, nonsense! The comics were great though, and the movies were just plain badass. But in real life? Please, they were only actors dressed up for Halloween date night.

Then I was proven wrong. "...You don't know what that is do you?" I shook my head slowly, a miffed expression on my face.

A look of surprise took over his features. "Really? I'm surprised. Most folks know the name Stark anywhere. He's the 'mechanical genius' who runs an Expo for aspiring inventors, from what Bucky tells me. The man's supposedly known for being quite the lady charmer," he said this all in an exaggerated tone, showing his obvious disinterest.

I blinked rapidly. What? "So, you're saying the Billionaire Stark family exists?" I questioned, a disbelieving tone in my voice.

Steve looked both appreciative of what appeared to him as blatant ignorance and shocked that I had not once heard the rich male's name. _But_, he thought, _Stark is a millionaire. The man can't be that rich during the War. Amelia seems to be a bit off with her words..._

"With all due respect to you Ma'am," he excused, "What rock have you been hiding under?"

I snickered, waving him off and trying to dispell the sprouting tension. "No rock, that's for sure. Just a really big Yurt. And don't call me Ma'am, I'm not sixty yet."

Steve was starting to wonder if I had lost my cookies, with the way I was acting. He thought I was a refreshing individual, even if I was _a woman_. Steve knew quite well that he behaved horribly around them, blushing and stumbling over his words. Yet here he is, finally relaxed and not distressed by my seemingly crazed female behavior, or better yet, extreme sarcasm.

"A Yurt?" Steve spoke, flabbergasted.

I nodded. "A Yurt. Mongolians traveled Asia as most nomadic peoples did when the Silk Road was still in popular use, with collapsible homes that could be easily made from the resources around them. A Yurt is what they used. They're quite efficient actually, and much more resilient to the weather than a Cherokee's tepee."

Steve Rogers just blinked. He really didn't know what to make of me. But, if he had to decide whether I would be his friend, he would say _Yes_ faster than another saying _No_. I was different from other women, and he liked that.

"Now back to my question," I said firmly, "Does Stark really exist?"

I watched as he slowly nodded with a skeptical look on his face, my stomach swiftly turning to ash and the food in my mouth to dust. The wild ideas I had previously about the _**T I M E**_ device flew back at me with an abrupt yet heavy swing, all sorts of conspiracy theories about what I had gotten myself into flourishing in my conscious mind. _Did I really jump through space and time? Can I still find Nutella at the supermarket? Where has the device landed me, the Marvel Universe? Does Stan Lee exist? Is there a reason why I am the one with the __**T I M E**__ gadget, or was it just an accident? Or better yet, do I have a purpose here? Can I get a magical Unicorn?!_

Questions kept flying, and the gears were turning at lightning speeds. Then my mother's brilliance kicked in. Everything suddenly made perfect sense. Steve Rogers. Stark. Captain America. Space. Time. **EVERYTHING**.

But I needed to be sure I was right. I had to, or I probably lost my mind in the time-jumping process.

"How many times did you get rejected by the military?" I demanded, startling Steve.

"What?" He let out breathlessly. Nobody knew about that besides Bucky.

"How many friggin' times did you get bloody rejected by the damn military?" I spoke sharply and slowly, my hazel-green eyes wild. I never understood why I used both slang and British curses when I was angry, but I did. I think Delilah was to blame, since she was born in England with the ethics accent.

"Five times?" He said unsuredly, his face betraying his worry.

_Steve gets rejected five times before he encounters that doctor, which on his sixth time he gets accepted_, I thought rapidly. That meant in a few days or so, his friend Bucky will invite him to go to Stark Expo.

"Do you have a phone where you live? Like a wall phone or a hard-wired?"

Rogers seemed still quite wary of me right now, but decided to answer anyway. "If a home phone is what you are taking about, Yes-?"

"Great!" I said abruptly, cutting him off. I swung my backpack off, throwing it viciously into the booth cushions with a muffled thump. My hands were on the flaps in seconds, unbuckling the clasps and unzipping the pockets. I could feel Steve's eyes on me, probably thinking I lost it entirely. People started to look in our direction, wondering what the looney dark-skinned woman was feverishly doing.

Personally, I think I just did go bonkers. But I knew I'd calm down after I got this done. I needed Steve to contact me. I wasn't sure why, but my fabulous gut instincts told me otherwise. There was a rare time when those instincts were wrong, and I wasn't about to think they failed me now.

I shoveled through the multiple compartments, taking stuff out item by item and placing it all on the table. Steve quickly got up and placed our dishes at the diner's main serving counter, rushing back to see what I was up to still.

A myriad of objects were piled in a surprisingly neat fashion in front of me, varying from sketch pads to fancy fountain pens. There were journals too, and many different types of art materials. Fabric, thread, yarn, knitting needles, cowhide, small wooden drum frames, percussion mallets, and so much more. I had made an executive decision to not take out any of my electronics, since this was the Forties and not the 21st Century. The only things that were tech on the table was the device and my iPhone. Books and hardware manuals were also piled high, vibrantly colored covers blending in with the muddle of art supplies.

Steve curiously picked up one of my sketch pads, recognizing that it was indeed for drawing. Carefully he opened it, gazing at the splashes of bright color and delicate pencil lines. Each page held something different, either in style, type, or topic. Inked drawings of people, charcoal scenes, pastel shading for a picture of a meadow, or just simple pencil drawings of anything that came to mind at the time. Yet a few pages held an elaborate display of detail, from the single fiber of a fluttering feather to the soft shine in a woman's eye. Steve Rogers could not deny that I could draw, or anything involving artistic talent for that matter.

He looked up from the pad, placing it on the table and picking up another. The male continued this pattern, gazing at my pages upon pages of creations with a look of acute interest. Steve also noted almost four of my sketch pads were dedicated to American Indian art, which in his opinion was quite fascinating. He never actually saw anything like it until today, which he was somewhat grateful for.

After looking through the last pad and placing it back on the pile, Rogers glanced over to me. Finally I had found a pad of Sticky Notes, which were colored a neon orange. I was rapidly writing down my cellphone number on the piece of paper, writing out my full name below it. I peeled the note off the little stack, slapping it in front of Steve.

He glanced down at it, blushing faintly once again while looking a bit startled at my jerky actions. "Here's my number. If you ever want to get ahold of me, call that. If I don't pick up, I'm probably off somewhere causing some sort of domestic chaos or sleeping," I explained, "But hopefully that won't be too often, since I'm not good with too many surprises."

The small male nodded, smirking. He folded the petite note and stuffed it into his coat pocket, nodding again. I slowly and meticulously placed all my things back into my backpack, zipping and buckling it up. I turned back to Steve, grinning foolishly.

"Well, today was... Fun? Sorry if I acted weirdly, I don't usually do that."

He chuckled. "No problem. It was kinda nice actually."

I joined in on the chuckling, shaking my head. "If you say so, Steve. I should probably let you go now. I took up enough time as it is, and I still have some things to figure out. Being in a new city can be quite an experience."

He got up from his side of the booth, walking over to mine. Rogers politely offered a hand, "At least let me show you out. It's rude to leave a fine dame such as yourself alone in a big bustling place like this."

For the first time in a long time, I lightly blushed. I have always been a very modest person, never regarding myself as very attractive. But Steve's comment stirred my stomach, birthing little airy butterflies. After a moment's pause I took his hand, standing up right beside him. We really were the exact same height, no joke. God, it was going to be mental when Steve becomes 'Captain America-ified.' If it happened. My mind already inwardly gushes for that. _DAMN-DUM_.

Linking arms once again, we walk out of the shop. The sunlight improved slightly, but not enough to warrant it a pleasant day. Together we stroll down the street a ways, passing an assortment of clothing stores and vacant buildings for lease.

Steve stops us suddenly, causing me to look up. He had led me to a bus station, one that was quite tired-looking but still busy.

"Here we are," announced Rogers, motioning with his other hand to the building in general. "I thought it would help if I led you here, since they have maps and a ticket booth inside. I live in a small apartment a few blocks away, so if you really can't find a place to stay, I am pretty close." He looked sheepish as he explained, making me smile again. Steve could be so bashful at times, and I know this only in the lapse of a few hours!

"Thanks Steve. And remember," I spoke, releasing him from my hold and turning my back to the station,"Call that number if you ever want to get ahold of me."

The man nodded, a smirk displayed in his face. He waved briefly, and I gave a little wave back. Then he departed, leaving me to stand at an old bus station in the Forties and all the more lost in this alien time and place.

* * *

A few hours had passed, and it was getting late. I had heeded Steve's keen advice and got a map of New York, though I had to fork up three quarters to get it. Just as I had expected of this time, something that would have been a free luxury for a person of a paler complexion than mine was a priced item for me, complements of the dastardly ticket man. The guy even tried to force me to buy the very expensive round trip ticket, which I harshly declined. And my mother said I couldn't argue as stubbornly as her... Man, was she wrong!

Now I was just wandering the nearly empty streets, studying the scenery. I didn't feel comfortable with renting a room at a motel, since I wasn't sure when I'd end up time jumping; It could be at any moment. So, I was in the old-fashioned clothes I found myself in, simply drifting around.

I was actually enjoying myself, wearing the recut men's suit. The brown pinstripe looked very attractive on me, and the dress shirt underneath complemented the outfit nicely. The scarf was also a nice touch, though I wouldn't have minded wearing a different pair of shoes. Moccasins were SO much better than these uncomfortable flats. Women knew nothing of comfort in the past decades, I swear. Hopefully one of these days I'll finally time-jump to somewhere I could buy a pair of moccasins, then my current state of life as a time traveler would be complete.

The **_T I M E_** device once again hung from its cord around my neck, the silver crow charm hidden under the dress shirt and scarf. I decided moments ago that I would keep my iPhone in my pants pocket, so if I time-jump or get a call from Steve it was easy access.

"_Wwrring... Wwrring... Traveling process beginning in three minutes, Amelia._"

Oh bother. My eyes darted about, looking for a possible alleyway or abandoned shop to hide in during my abrupt 'traveling process.' About a block down the street I spotted a little side street, right next to what looked to be a bakery. Without so much as a lingering thought, I dashed along the sidewalk Towards my set destination. The few pedestrians still about at this hour looked at me with surprise and confusion, and some calling out "Bitch" or "Painted Bastard." I didn't give them a response, too focused on reaching the side street.

At last I turned the corner and darted down the small street, stopping before a tall wire fence. Crates and a few random dumpsters littered the dark side road, offering some closure.

"_Traveling process beginning in twenty seconds, Amelia_."

I tried to mentally and physically prepare myself for the jump, but it didn't really matter. The acid green haze took over my eyes faster than before, and the sensations rolled in with just as much speed. The buzzing, the warming static charge, the neon tones of light passing before my blinded eyes, and the mess of emotions that devoured any coherent thought. It happened within what seemed to only be an hour, when before it felt like an eternity. So much green...

The landing was not so different from before. I crashed once again into a large amount of tin trashcans, which only broke my fall slightly. A groan escaped my lips, my small body rolling off the demolished metallic containers onto the damp concrete. _I need to practice landing sometime. I would like to not accumulate a shit ton of bruises_, I thought agitatedly.

Sluggishly, I heaved myself on my own two feet, dusting my brown pinstripe suit off and adjusting my hair and scarf. The device was glowing a residual acid green, fading out. I blinked a few times to get my bearings, looking around.

Sadly, it was the same bloody alleyway as before, only it was nighttime. A few select stars were out, shining against the backdrop of military blimps and smokestacks. As I walked out of the alley, the city seemed lit up and teeming with life. Men and women walked the streets, couples were holding hands with smiles gracing their happy faces, and soldiers strolled along in their army uniforms while talking amongst themselves in companionable tones.

The streets were damp with a slight chill of the evening, and steam lingered across the darkened pavement from sewage vents. Signs and shops were lit up with cheery lights, and those that were vacant were rented, hanging tarp signs over the doors. The streets seemed happy and simple, unlike the New York I had seen in movies. I think I liked this New York, the big city of the Forties.

"_Call all you want but there's no one home, And you're not gonna reach my telephone. 'Cause I'm out in the club and I'm sippin' that bubb,' And you're not gonna reach my telephone..._"

My iPhone as ringing, playing Telephone by Lady GaGa. I wonder how it even has service, since there is no way satellites for phone service are up in the orbit. Couldn't be the fact that my phone is somehow linked to the _**T I M E**_ device? I decided to save my question for later, digging my iPhone out of my pants pocket and tapping the green 'Accept' button.

"Hello?"

"Hi... Uhh, It's Steve," spoke a somewhat nervous voice.

"Hey there, Steve Rogers! You rang? What's got you calling?"

"My buddy Bucky, remember him? Well, he asked me to come with him to take a few girls out dancing, and well... I was wondering if you would like to come."

I smiled tightly. _Lovely, I was sent a few days forward in time to this day. I'm probably going to end up meeting Bucky and that doctor... What was his name? Dr. Erskine! Well, I think I'll just go along with this_, I thought. _What have I got to lose?_

"I would love to, Steve! Where should I meet you? I still don't know this city all too well, so don't pick something too complicated."

"How about I pick you up with Bucky at the bus station? It should be fine, right?

"Yeah. See you in a few?"

"Bye," was his short answer.

The line went dead seconds after, and I clicked the lock button on the side of the phone, stuffing it back into my pants pocket.

_What have I gotten myself into? _That was my only thought as I strolled down the street, in the direction of the battered bus station.


	3. A Date Out and Enrolling In

_Oh my god, you readers are being so very mean to me! There have been over eighty two reads and nobody has bothered reviewing. I demand someone give me some type of feedback. I feel like I'm a slave driver here! Please Read and Review, for both your sake and mine._

* * *

**Chapter 3: A Date Out and Enrolling In**

As I had promised, I sat patiently on a wooden bench placed in front of the bus station window, my full backpack sitting beside me. My scarf rippled in a brief gust of wind, the vibrant Native patterns flapping. Dark locks of hair flew around my tanned face, only to settle nicely on my broad yet small shoulders. I felt surprisingly peaceful for a twenty-three year old woman stuck within the fabric of space and time.

Minutes passed, and I decided to sketch out scenes from the recent hours. Little ol' Steve in his suit, looking polite yet out of place. The front of the coffee shop Cafe De Cruz, as well as the interior. The glowing _**T I M E**_ device, and what I pictured myself looking like while I sat quietly sketching at the bench. Even then, I began to tire of reality, and another page became victim to my wild and maddeningly surrealistic doodles.

Few people bothered to even glance my way, and those that did seemed to question my actions. People in general made no sense in this period at times, with their constant skepticism and judgement that could be beyond ridiculous. 2012 wasn't this judgmental, only except for maybe a few extremely racist bastards.

HONK HONK HOOONNK.

I looked up sharply, pausing my busy hand mid-sketch. A nice-looking old Ford was stopped off to the sidewalk across the street, a solid black like most cars from this time. A man in an all-formal military dress uniform, including the hat, was still honking his horn periodically. He was smiling, and his other hand was making suggestive beckoning gestures. Sitting in the back was the person I was looking for. Steve was smiling probably more than the other nameless man, waving his arms around and yelling my name.

Unable to hide my amusement, I laughed without restraint. Closing my sketch pad, I stuffed it back into my backpack and shouldered it. Stopping at the edge of the sidewalk, I quickly glanced both ways before darting across the way and leaping into the car without opening the doors.

"Hello there, boys! May I assume this uniformed man is Barnes?" I declared in a playful voice, making sure not to use any modern terms.

"That's me! You can call me Bucky though, everyone does. What's your name, Dollface?" Asked the man behind the wheel, a grin clear on his face.

"Amelia Walker. I'm new to the big city."

Bucky turned around in his seat to reply, only to freeze after seeing me up close. He looked between myself and Steve, as if questioning his mentality.

"Steve, when did you ever meet such a beautiful Redskin such as this one? She's exactly your height too!"

Steve didn't look pleased with his friend's behavior. "I met her in the alleyway behind the Cinema. She helped me with a guy, and I offered to take her to a coffee shop."

Bucky looked disbelieving. He glanced at me, "Was he getting punched again? I swear this guy actually enjoys it." Steve made a grunting noise, annoyed or embarrassed.

"He was getting pushed around by some gruff, sleazy looking dude," I spoke up, gaining slightly confused looks from the guys, "And I couldn't stand watching that happen. So I surprised him and pushed him against the wall. The guy tried to grab at me, and I took a rotten baseball bat to his face."

Barnes stared at me with mild respect and shock. "Do Redskins actually train their women to fight like that, or is that just you?"

I raised my head high, hair tossed back in an honorably offended gesture. "Do you have a problem with Redskins, Barnes? Because I thought this was a friendly trip out dancing than an interrogation about my racial observances," I ended strongly.

Bucky's hands shot up, held high in surrender. "I give, I give! A woman is a woman, no matter the looks! I just haven't actually talked with a Redskin before, so I was _innocently_ curious. Steve finally meets a woman, and at the least, it had to be a pretty gal like you," he concluded, that cheeky boyish grin returning.

Steve and I both blushed, and Bucky guffawed at the sight, turning back to the wheel and guiding the stick into drive. Bucky launched into friendly conversation with Steve soon after, sometimes including me when they wanted a third opinion. Besides the brief interjection here and there, I didn't really feel the need to talk. The pair seemed to be really close friends, thicker than thieves. It didn't seem right to interrupt that just yet.

The car drove into the parking lot of the 1943 Stark Exposition moments after, which looked just as impressive as it did in what I remember of the Captain America film. It was packed with people, all streaming to the opening gates. Steve and Bucky got out first, the shorter walking around and opening the door for me. I smiled, nodding.

We walked over to Bucky, who looked pretty happy with himself. "Well Amelia, here we are!" He announced, lifting his arms in the direction of the gates. "I invited some other girls along, so you shouldn't be too alone. Though I bet Steve will be just as good, seeing as he actually asked a fine lady such as yourself out."

Steve turned such a vibrant pink in the cheeks it was almost too much to bear. Damn, why does he look so adorable? _I just wanna hug him_, I thought in a girly way. I rarely ever embraced my more feminine side, but right now was one of those moments.

"Oh, Bucky!" I said, "You made the poor guy blush up a storm! I'm going to hug him he's so precious!" I flamboyantly stated, obviously trying to embarrass Steve even further while getting in my light hug.

My plan had worked, leaving Steve a blushing bashful mess and Barnes laughing it up. The three of us walked together, my arms linked with either male on each side. We ended up joking and chuckling all the way to the ticketman in the booth at the front gate, who was smart enough not to dispute the fact these two males were bringing in what seemed to be a Redskin girl.

Then I heard a collective squeal, "BUCKY!"

Without even looking, I knew those were the girls Barnes had invited to come along. I glanced at Steve, who had just as big of a disapproving frown as I did at that moment.

"One of them was going to be your date if I didn't end up coming?"

"Yep," He said plainly.

Bucky came back a few seconds later with a woman on each side of him, his arm over each of their shoulders. "Ladies, meet Steve Rogers and Amelia Walker. They'll be joining us tonight."

They waved enthusiastically, though it was obvious to both myself and Steve their smiles didn't reach their eyes. The pair were there for Bucky's attentions, not us. Personally, I was fine with that... And I think Rogers was too.

With that, Steve and I brought up the rear of our party, arms linked together. Bucky was ahead of us, being very loud and flirtatious with the two girls literally hanging off him. The exposition was fantastic, especially for being a type of theme park during the second World War. Along the way Steve or Bucky would try to explain an exhibit to me or tell one of their wild childhood stories, causing me to laugh and otherwise divert attention away from those hyper little terriers called women. Steve even bought a medium sized bag of popcorn to share with me, which tasted awesome compared to the over-greased junk they told in the future.

Later on all five of us (more so Bucky and his babes than Steve and myself) watched the demonstration by the famous Howard Stark of Stark Industries show off his upcoming technologies. I found it somewhat impressive, since scientists or engineers from my universe couldn't even make a car hover to save their lives. But Steve and I didn't really pay attention, glancing around the center and eating away at our nearly empty bag of popcorn.

Out of nowhere Steve literally tossed the popcorn onto the pavement, a small saddened gasp escaping me at the loss of perfectly good food. "Steve, what you do-"

Looking up from the pavement to find my new friend gone, only taller and more nicely dressed people were around me. I dashed about, my scarf flapping about and the _**T I M E**_ device swinging on its leather cord. Finally I caught sight of my short companion, who was walking briskly towards the _United States Armed Services Recruitment _building on the premises.

_Oh God_, I thought. _Steve's going to try again, and Dr. Erskine is going to let him. Should I do this too?_ It was a plausible idea, joining the military with Steve. Knowing my luck, I'd end up in the same program as him. Hopefully NOT to become a female super soldier, but at least end up working with Peggy or Steve after his transformation.

Plus, with the way I was always time-jumping somewhere not too far from Steve, it would make sense if I was part of the Military program. Then it wouldn't be questionable why some small girl like me knew where this top secret program was stationed. Or at least, that's what I thought would end up going down.

Resolved to join Steve in his foolish but soon-to-be-successful escapade, I sprinted towards his confident form.

"Steven Rogers!" I yelled in a commanding voice. The male jumped, turning to see me jog up to him huffing with my hands braced on my knees.

"You Sir... Are a hard man to keep up... With," I said, breathing hard. I needed to work out again like I did in Middle School. It'll do me some good.

"Amelia? How'd you find me?"

I straightened up, putting my hand to my chin like I was pondering the answer, with a clear scowl on my face. "Hmm, Let me see... Look for a short blonde white guy probably walking since he isn't one to run. Then just factor in the fact you seem adamant about enlisting, I'd say it's not fucking hard to find you!" I ranted in anger.

He looked taken aback. "Is that what's upsetting you? How do you even know?"

I facepalmed, rolling my eyes. "Course not, I'm not upset! I actually respect anybody who's brave enough to join, but that's getting off topic here. You don't just abandon a friend and not tell them anything, especially if its a woman! I mean, _Jesus_ Steve! Don't startle me like that. As for the fact I know what you did, let's just say that you wear your heart too much on your sleeve."

He looked at me a bit guilty. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I just really want to do my part in this War. I've got every right to, but just because of my condition I get the boot," Steve finished with a sigh.

"Well then," I began, "If you're going, I will too. If they accept a man like you, then they sure can accept someone like me. To hell with not allowing women to join the fight! I can whip some ass if I want to! And, I think Bucky would be more comfortable with the idea that you'll have a friend with you than not. You get into trouble quite a bit from what I have heard from Buck's stories tonight."

Steve smiled widely. A real, million-dollar smile that seemed to not just light up the area around him but turn his eyes into twinkling stars. _What the hell am I, a woman trapped in another time and universe, getting myself into?_

* * *

Together with our arms linked again, we strolled into the Recruitment building, Steve looking hopeful. Quite a few people gave us looks as we lightly gazed at the pictures and displays, but otherwise ignored us. A little light-up pedestal was placed in front of a promotional photo, which we both tried to stand on. We were obviously too short, which we laughed at lightly in spite of ourselves.

Until Bucky found us.

By the collars of our coat necks he yanked us away from the poster, twirling us around and towing the all three of us back into the small yet narrow lobby. He released us roughly, his face not looking at all pleased with Steve or myself, who he considered his new 'feminine' friend.

_Busted_, I sang in my mind.

"C'mon you two, this is supposed to be a kind of double date! I think you missed the point, Steve. Let's go take these girls out danc-"

"You go ahead, I'll catch up later," inserted Steve, cutting his old friend off. That did not make Bucky any happier. He realized what his old friend was doing.

"You're going to do this again." said Barnes, as more of a statement than a question.

"Well," Steve began, glancing away from Bucky, "It's a fair, I can try my luck."

"As who, Steve from Ohio?!" His friend said sharply, "They'll catch you... No! Worse, they'll actually take you."

I had forgot that before Steve actually got accepted, he falsified his legal forms so he could try four more times. Though I shouldn't be speaking, since there are no records of my existence whatsoever. I'd have to have records made for me, hopefully by Dr. Erskine...

"-This isn't about a fight in a back alley Steve, it's a War."

"I know it's a War-"

"Why are you so keen to fight? There are plenty of important jobs..."

"Like _what_?" Steve said with contempt, "Collect scrap metal with my little red wagon like little Timmy?"

"Yes, why not-!"

"I'm not gonna work at a factory, Bucky... Bucky...BUCKY!" His friend finally silenced himself, looking at Steve with a sweltering gaze.

"C'mon, there are men laying down their lives. I got _no right_ to do _any less_ than them. That's what you don't understand... This isn't about me."

Barnes was still disbelieving, his mouth set in a straight line. "Right, cuz' you got nothing to prove."

I felt like I was being purposely ignored in this entire conversation, which did not make me at all pleased because it was true. So, I decided to assert myself in the heated discussion.

"If it makes you feel any better Buck," I commented, gaining their attentions, "I already technically gave Steve this lecture previously, only shorter and much more calmly. I had a feeling you would be displeased with this, so I decided that if Rogers does get enlisted, I could too. I mean, what's the difference? Then, someone can make sure this doofus don't do anything foolish. Comprende?"

The taller man stared at me for a few moments, seizing me up for the second time that day. He shifted nervously, "Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

Steve and I grinned at Barnes. We won the argument after all. "How can I? Taking all the stupid with you," commented Rogers playfully. Bucky gave him a firm hug, giving me a crooked smile as I stood behind them. I shook my head, _Bucky Bucky Bucky. I have only met you today, but I feel like I've known you forever._

The pair said some parting words, which were sarcastic and snarky; Quite fitting to a pair of male chums. Then Steve turned back to me, a faint smile on his face. "Shall we, Ma'am?" With a nod, we walked off side by side to the 'checking' rooms. As we passed I had observed Dr. Erskine, who looked interestedly at the two of us. My hopes quickly brightened. _Thank God, he noticed us. Hope lives for me!_

* * *

After a good deal of arguing between Steve, myself, and the doctors, I got to slip into the 'checking' room with him. People in this era are so confining, they needed to get out more. And by more, I mean go to the future.

"I still don't understand why you want be in here."

"Steve, don't ever question a woman's motives. You'll find the smart ones have more sense than you could ever have," I said, turning away from the drawn curtains to a timid Steve, we was slowly unbuttoning his shirt and untying his shoes.

"It's just not proper," he muttered, fiddling with his cuffs.

An MP barged in at that exact moment, startling both myself and Steve. He stood there resolutely, making Rogers inwardly panic. I could tell from the look in his eyes, the small guy was like a deer in headlights.

Then a semi-tall German man strolled in, wearing glasses and sporting a wild cranium of grey hair. His simple coat was brown, his slacks grey. He studied us for a few moments, then shooed the MP away with the flick of his wrists.

"So," he said with a thick German accent, "You want to go overseeze, kill some Nazis..."

The man, who I knew to be Dr. Erskine, pulled a folder from under his arm and opened it. He glanced over it, them closed it sharply.

"Excuse me?" Questioned a somewhat startled Steve. I stood beside him, saying nothing.

"Doctor Abraham Erskine," he offered his hand to each of us in turn, which we shook. "I work with the scientific unit of the Military."

"Steve Rogers," spoke my friend, "And this is Amelia Walker." I nodded in the doctor's direction. He nodded back, but went to the examining bed and laid the folder out.

"Where are you from, Mr. Rogers? Is it New Haven? Or the Bahamuus? I am from Queens, but before that it was Germany. Do have a problem with it?"

"No. I think you have the wrong file," Steve quietly said, looking unsure and worried. I felt it was the folder that put him on edge.

"It's not the exams or where they are from I care about, it's the five tries. But, you didn't answer my question," the man walked up to us, looking at both of us critically. "Do you want to kill Nazis?"

Steve blinked looking between me and the Doctor. "Is this a test?"

"Yes!" Said the German fervently.

My friend was silent for a moment, mulling over his thoughts. Then, "I don't wanna kill anyone. I don't like Bullies; I don't care where they're from."

"Well, there are already so many big men in this war, maybe what we need now is a little guy."

Steve said nothing, watching the Doctor who proclaimed his need, _No_, the military's need, for people like him. Then the German man looked over to me, a curious light in his eyes.

"And what about you, Miss? I don't often see Native Americans go into War, though I find it brave of them to do so. Is this your _Amor_?"

"No!" We said simultaneously, staring at each other with red faces. Then I turned away, not wanting to look at Steve for fear of melting out of embarrassment. The doctor wore a knowing smile, which I did not like at all.

"So, then what did you come for? You want to go kill Nazis too, or go the more honorable way?"

I grunted, "I don't kill people, I protect people. This doofus," I gestured to an objecting Steve, "Nearly gotten himself beaten to a pulp a few days ago. I couldn't take watching it, so I helped him. Now here I am, going to follow him into War because he became my friend and I got nothing else to do. Not to mention this boy does selfless things that drive us all nuts."

The Doctor chuckled, "A strong young woman for a long taxing war... I find I like the idea. Do you have enlistment or legal forms? I found none on file here for you like your friend."

I laughed nervously, "Well you see, I'm not from around here, and people like me don't really have files. You know, living out and about an' all. I-I was hoping I could fill some out, but I was too wrapped up with Steve to get any...So... yeah." I ended lamely.

"Zen let's fill those out, shall we?" He vanished behind the curtains for a few moments, returning with an unlabeled file containing all blank documents. "Do you know the required health information?"

"Oh yeah! I..."

From there I went on to detail my family's medical history, as well my date of birth and former occupation. Erskine jokingly commented that Steve and I both had an artistic education, which again made us blush. Shortly after he finished, he lead us out into the main area, where he stamped both of our files. The doctor talked to Steve briefly, which I assumed to be about his offer.

Finally the elder man turned to me, "You and your friend will ship out tomorrow, and shortly after that you will train with the other men as well as under the tutelage of a Miss Carter. If that backpack is all your belongings, I think are already prepared for the War."

I chuckled at his final comment, shaking my head. "Good day, Doctor." He smiled, tipping his head, and leaving.

And with that, I was enrolled in the American Military in the year 1943 with Steven Rogers at the age of twenty-three. _A time traveler and a soldier_, I thought with dry sarcasm.

* * *

"RECRUITS, ATTENTION!" Ordered a feminine British voice. A very attractive brunette came around, a soldier in tow with a box of clipboards.

"Gentleman and Lady, I am Agent Carter. I supervise all operations for this division," she said, glancing specifically at me.

Steve Rogers and I had successfully been shipped out the day after the Expo, where we now stood at attention in our uniforms and heavy helmets. Previously I had crashed at Steve's quaint apartment, thankfully not time-jumping though being quite awkward. I was literally forced into taking Rogers' bed while he slept on sime beat-up couch. Shortly after waking up the next day, we hurried to obtain our uniforms and even went as far to make jokes about how they fit. Steve stood right beside me, his head barely keeping that large hard helmet in place.

Mine didn't look so out of place, thanks to my fly-away hair that reached far past my shoulders and down my back. My two necklaces, being the crow charm and the _**T I M E**_ device, were hidden beneath my jumpsuity uniform. I had also taken the devious liberty to paint my helmet on the jeep trip here, making look like the scarf I had been wearing the night before. I kept it and my whole civilian outfit in my trusty backpack, which they allowed me to keep. _Thank God_.

I also had the pleasure of meeting Peggy Carter before this lineup of candidates, who would be both my supervisor and my personal Drill Sergeant during 'Night Classes.' _Whatever the hell those are_, I thought apprehensively.

"What's with the accent, Queen Victoria?"

I rolled my eyes. It was Hodge, who I realized was the one who I had personally hit in the face with a rotting baseball bat. Sadly he had been enrolled in the same program/infantry as Steve and I, which left the need for the disgusting man's company **wanting**. From the look Peggy was giving him at that moment, she wasn't so pleased either.

I was proven right when he was punched square in the nose by the almighty British woman seconds later. _What a good swing!_

"Agent Carter!" called a man in a military-grade jeep. He got out pretty fast, even uf he was looking pretty old and worse for wear. "Colonel Philips," acknowledged Peggy.

"I see you are breaking in our new candidates," The superior commented, "That's good." Philips went down slightly at the bleeding Hodge, threatening the man into standing up.

The Colonel launched into a mildly inspiring speech after giving Hodge a good scare, talking about War and men. He walked down the line, pausing briefly after seeing both myself and Steve looking absolutely preposterous amongst the taller males...

...Then the thrilling first week of Trainee Boot Camp came along. I think I never had that much exercise in my entire life. I did a great deal better than Steve even though I was exactly the same height as him, but unlike him I had perfect health. From running to push-ups, Obstacle courses to wading through mud with a musket, it was Hell. Not to mention being the singular female soldier in the entire American military warranted a lot of mindless flirting from all the men. _Jesus, I swear I know every cheesy pick-up line out there by now!_

"Tonight we begin your Night Classes, Miss Walker," declared Peggy, looking steadfast and attractive as usual. I didn't really speak to her since I got here, much too busy with all the physical male training than anything. It was still also hard to believe I was just some time traveler, stuck in the Marvel Universe with Captain America as your best friend. Not that anybody knew that yet.

"Yessum! Though if I may so bold Peggy, what do these 'Night Classes' involve?"

"Weapon's training, Hand-to-Hand combat, Melee weapon's training, and proficiency testing." My superior's answer came easily, and she was not at all insulted by my lack of constricting Army speech. Listening to the General yammer on at her with her nickname at random intervals kinda rubbed off on me unconsciously.

"Testing? If it's to take the serum or whatever Erskine offered to Steve, I seriously do _**not**_ want it. Perfectly fine with the level of muscle I've got now, thank you," I relayed nervously, "Plus I'm deathly afraid of needles. Wouldn't even get past the painkillers before the actual procedure started."

"Really? I was under the impression that's why you came with Rogers," Peggy spoke, an eyebrow raised.

"Nope, I just saved his little rag-tag self from being beaten to a pulp in an alleyway by Hodge a week and a few days back. We became quick friends, and here I am. An old friend of Steve's let him try to enroll because of me, to keep him out of trouble."

The British woman nodded. "That's good of you to do, Walker. With that in mind," she said with a smirk, "Let's begin."

For the next five hours of the evening, we cycled through all the basics. I was a failure at using a gun ("You have horrible accuracy" she said straight out), I could use my fist proficiently ("Did you fight when you were younger?" asked a tired Peggy), and decent skills with melee ("Though I don't believe in all that American hodge-podge, I'm starting to wonder if you had Tomahawk-wielding ancestors."). I found my "superior" Peggy to be quite refreshing, to say the least. She reminded me of a more controlled Delilah, minus the fact Delilah was a mad technological genius and Peggy wasn't. The woman was hard, but seemed to have a deep understanding of people in general; it was probably why she was the one to evaluate all the men during training, along with myself.

"We're done for tonight, Walker. Or should I be calling you Redskin? The Colonel seems apt to make that your nickname," commented Agent Carter, who was smirking.

I laid my head on a gun-covered table in front of me, groaning. Colonel Philips was a disgustingly old-fashioned, more so than good-natured Steve Rogers. He was racist too, which annoyed me to no end. _Just because I have my mother's looks does not make me a pure-blood Native American! My file even says so, thanks to Dr. Erskine_. But, the Colonel's rude nickname 'Redskin' just seemed to stick with the men. They would always blame my agility and critical eye on my ancestors, as well as my understanding of the wild life around the camp site on my 'Indian' nature. _Personally, I just want to do a bit of Medicine magic and silence their gibbering mouths... If I could even do it_, I thought angrily.

Peggy giggled at my behavior, "Don't pity yourself, Amelia. The males will learn to respect you after I'm through with you."

"Somehow I am both comforted and bewildered by your statement..." I said sarcastically. My 'superior' laughed.

"Get some rest, Sergeant! You will be through with the next few weeks of training before you know it," she declared, walking away.

"That's what I'm worried about," I muttered darkly.


	4. Time Jumping and Touring Theatre

_My old friend died yesterday, and I dedicate this chapter to him. RIP Nicolas Winchell! Read and Review?_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Time-Jumping and Touring Theatre**

I had time-jumped three to four weeks later after my training with Agent Peggy Carter was finished. As an aspiring soldier in this time, I was still no better at shooting with a gun. Melee and fist fighting did, which I was thankful for. Ranged weaponry did not go over well for me.

It was just after my final lesson with Peggy, who still had persistently tried to get me to aim correctly with a small pistol she gifted me with. Instead, I ended up getting a promise for a fold-up spear. _How are they going to make that?_ was the thought running through my mind before the whole acid-green light special overtook my senses for the third time in my life.

"_Wwrring...Wwrring... Transport process beginning in five seconds, Amelia_."

The next second, I was flying face-first into my spring bed in my own lonely yet rickety shack, with my backpack somehow slung over my shoulders. Since I was a low ranked soldier and a Redskin woman, I was given personally by the Colonel the materials and tools needed to make my own place. And that I did, thanks to some careful planning and my mother's brilliance.

Light was streaming through the boards of my handmade wall, which didn't exactly please me. Fearing that I suddenly went a hundred years into the future, I rushed into one of the few clean uniforms I had. It wasn't exactly decent, since I had altered it into a ragged pair of work trousers like an old-timey farmer. A white tank top was under it, thick and mildly stained by sweat imprints. My **_T I M E_** device hung from my neck prominently, the crow charm hidden beneath the tank's collar.

Rushing out, I was mildly thankful for seeing nothing had severely changed, though it was obvious a number of days had passed. The candidates were already lined up for the day, being called off in order by Agent Carter herself. The Colonel stood behind her, a stern fleshy shadow.

Deciding to make an appearance, I hopped into line right next to Steve. Who, might I add, thankfully was not a Super Soldier yet.

"Amelia!" Spoke a startled young Rogers, who looked pretty happy that I was here.

"Hey," I said lamely, "Did I miss anything?"

"Like hell you did, Redskin! Now I don't have to owe the Doctor for loosing our bet." It was indeed Colonel Philips, who suddenly had a Dr. Abraham Erskine standing beside him wearing a nice hat. Money was passed, eyes were rolled.

"I knew you Redskins never abandoned a duty once it is assigned to you! Just had to go off and get some of your fire dances over with or walk with the wind spirits and you'll be as fit as a fiddle!" Ranted the commander, being the obnoxious old-fashioned racist white man I had ever met. Somehow, I was kind of endearing.

_I think this time travel is getting to my head_, I thought bewilderedly.

* * *

Business seemed to go on as usual, until Steve and I were called away from the main of the group by Peggy. We were back off to New York, specifically a Brooklyn antique store. We jumped in a nice black 1943 Thunderbird and nearly flew along the ground until we reached the city limits. Steve and Peggy were having an awkward conversation around me, since I was in the middle of the back seat and they were on either side. _Love to be the middle man_, I thought grumpily. Not to mention they were discreetly flirting, which I doubt Steve entirely picked up on. It made my blood boil, to say the least. _But why?_

Moments before reaching the shop, I had an epiphany. This was the underground base of operations. Steve was going to become Sir Captain America within hours, and Dr. Erskine was going to eat three bullets soon after. Jesus No...!

Steve must have sensed my upset, "Are you alright, Amelia?"

I smiled weakly. It took forever to persuade him to call me Amelia, which was much better than confusing both myself and Peggy by saying Ma'am. "I'm okay, Steve. Just nerves."

The small man nodded, seeming to understand. Peggy glanced between the two of us, a strange knowing look. Little did I know that day Peggy and I both liked Steve, who also liked both of us. The love triangle was born.

Out the car we went, attempting to look discreet in our silly uniforms. Rogers decided to clean up nicely, while I didn't even know where I put my fancy presentation outfit was. I was who I was, wearing the clothes I rushed to put on earlier and looking the part of a poor Redskin._ Oh well to me_, I thought with a sigh. After we went inside I didn't even bother paying attention, too busy studying my changing surroundings to care what Peggy was briefing Steve on.

Then I realized we walked in silence. Coming back to Earth at this sudden change, I noticed we had finally come to the procedure room. Everyone seemed to stare at poor helpless looking Steve, almost expecting the World from him. As he looked around at the staring faces, his eyes paused at me, though I only briefly glanced in his direction. Unlike all the other people, I looked straight ahead.

Steve seemed to wordless appreciate my gesture, nodding a me. I did so back, a stoic expression on my visage. Then I stood watching Steve walk down with Peggy to that capsule machine, where we stripped himself of his almost all his clothes not including his pants. Again he looked my way, for assurance. I nodded again, a smile spreading across my face. Take a chance and become a new man, Steve.

In little to no time, I was ushered into the 'viewing box' by Colonel Philips. I said nothing to all those nicely dressed men, not even the Senator who offered his hand to me in greeting. I simply shook it mutely, not wanting to cause any interracial problems at that moment.

The procedure began almost immediately, much to my displeasure. Even though I knew he would pull through, I still feared for Steven Rogers. We became quick friends in the past weeks, having it all start from a simple act of compassion in an alleyway.

He was loaded in, locked inside, and transfused in seconds. The fact I could hear his blood-curdling screams terrified me. It may sound very weak and girly, but it's true. It scared me to the core, to hear that. Peggy wasn't doing any better, maybe worse. She panicked wildly, demanding it to be shut off.

Then a singular demand was heard, "NO! DON'T! I CAN DO THIS!" That phrase was saddening. I felt the desperation in his voice was really his weaker need. A need for something to do, a chance. Dr. Erskine signaled to continue, and shortly after the whole Brooklyn grid died.

Before anyone could get out of their seats, I launched myself out the door. "Redskin! Get-!"

I was gone before I could hear the rest. Kicking down the door and sprinting down the halls and flights of stairs I landed lightly on the grated floor. Dr. Erskine saw me, but was too slow to catch me. I skittered to a stop before the large bulkhead-shaped machine, my eyes frantic.

"STEVE?!" I yelled, fighting myself on whether I should pound on the metal for a response or wait for it to open. Open was what happened. A very much super-soldiered Steve was sweaty and breathless, looking pretty tall. _Shit, we're not short buddies anymore_, I thought suddenly. _Obviously_. Dr. Erskine helped him down, carefully bracing their successful patient. The need to hug the now very tall and muscular man was al out overwhelming, but I had a feeling it would probably be improper of me for this time period. Those that had been in the box were now crowding around him, though not even daring to push me out of the way.

_Damn right_, I thought haughtily. Steve glanced around groggily, not noticing the random touches from the red-faced nurses and a single Peggy. His eyes fell on me, a smile spreading across his face.

"How do you feel there, Steve? You're looking pretty good to me," I asked playfully.

"Tall," he answered plainly. I laughed, along with a number of scientists and men.

"I'd give you a hug Man, but you look like you are in need of a long shower."

"Look whose talking," he joked breathlessly.

"Don't be hatin' there, Son. I'm still three years older than you."

My now very tall friend shook his head, being able to stand on his own. Someone among the fray handed him a clean white shirt, which he put on quickly. If it wasn't for the fact I had seen men **almost** this ripped before, I would probably have joined the nurses at that moment who were ogling his figure. _This is going to take some getting used to_, I thought shamelessly.

KAA-CHOOM!

And the lab just entirely blew up around us. Steve had been his usual gentlemanly self, grabbing me and diving for the ground to protect me from stray debris. After squirming slightly underneath him, I was finally released.

"Oh Sorry, Amelia! I didn't mean to-"

"Dude, I'm fine."

We looked around, noticing people were still laying down except for Dr. Erskine and a man in a suave cut suit.

BANG BANG... BANG.

Though not for long. People cried out, though the screeches from the nurses could be clearly heard over the deep calls of the males. The culprit dashed off, snatching the single unused vial of the Serum. SHIT!

Quicker on my feet than Steve was at the moment, I shot off after the guy. Unlike the culprit I was much more agile and light footed. Along the way I had kicked off my boots, being able to full-out sprint barefoot. Though my pack did weigh me down, it didn't enough for the culprit to get away.

He was foolish, looking behind him and slowing for just the perfect amount of time. I literally tackled him to the ground, yanking the serum from his hands. But he punched me a good one in the side, knocking me back and dropping the fragile vial. It fell to pieces, causing the man to scowl.

"_Wwrrring...Wwrring... Transport process beginning in ten minutes, Amelia._"

The nameless male stared a few seconds, then dashed off again. _Fuck! _Not only was I unable to change time, but I was almost successful in doing so. Now I needed to hide, and fast. If anyone saw me time-jump, I was in for some serious shit. And not the good kind.

Turning my head rapidly, I jumped up and rushed down a different corridor. Picking a door at random, I opened and slammed it closed. _Saved by the Janitor's Closet_, I thought in relief. The neon lights overtook me shortly afterwards, the faint tones of rapid footfalls echoing strangely in my eardrums.

* * *

Being somewhat prepared for the abrupt drop-and-go, though not entirely, I clumsily tucked and rolled seconds before landing on a very unsupportive mattress. Much to my displeasure, I literally bounced off and dove for the hard earth-covered floor. I groaned loudly, clutching the shoulder I had landed on. _That landing did not work at all._

Grumbling angry curses under my breath, I picked myself up and gazed at my surroundings. It was obviously a tent, one that had probably seen better days than today. It looked to be on the verge of soaking through, and pouring rain could be clearly heard all around.

Once again I miraculously had my trusty backpack on, filled with all my belongings of personal consequence. Fishing through it, I was surprised I had found an extra trousered uniform. _I forget that I always make extras_, I thought to myself cheerfully. Quickly and quietly I changed, stuffing the dirty uniform in a uncaring corner. Snatching a poncho off the nearby bunker mattress, I exited the tent.

It looked absolutely dreary outside, the sky a disgusting grey mass and the landscape damp and unwelcoming. The ground was muddy paste, flooded as far as the eye could see. A stage of some type was erected not too far from where I was standing, protected under a high-stilted tarp. Curiosity won me over, and I scurried across the way barefoot. _Thank god I am used to doing this_, I thought.

Reaching cover, I tugged the poncho off. I shook my hair out, water droplets falling everywhere. Looking up with dew-laiden eyelashes, a muscled male form sat alone with their shoulders slouched. I padded over silently with my muddied feet, leaving faint dirt tracks behind me. Once I was close enough, I realized who it was.

It was Steve, clad in a coat for a military uniform and matching pants. His hair was damp, darkened to a dirty blonde. Glancing over his shoulder, I noticed he had a notebook in his large hands. Two sketches were visible to me, one of a moving train across a map and the other a circus cartoon. It was obvious what the Circus was in his mind, with a monkey dressed up like Captain America on a flying trapeze and clowns in tacky spangled dress.

He was pitying himself, sulking like a dishonored man.

Yet I couldn't help but break the silence with my laughter, finding the drawing quite amusing. Steve's head turned sharply, his eyes widening and a smirk breaking into his face at the sight of me.

In a flash he closed his notebook and slammed it down beside him. Steve literally pulled me down into a sitting position and gave me a killer bone-crushing bear hug, leaving me breathless. Emotions flooded my mind, feelings I wasn't sure _what_ to think of. My shorter arms reached up and encircled his large shoulder blades, patting Steve's upper back at a somewhat awkward angle.

"I thought you had left, or even worse..." He trailed off, sounding like the little man I had met who always had a big heart.

I lightly shushed him, "I'm here, and that's what matters. Plus I can't stay away for long, especially when that little kid from Brooklyn needs my help."

Steve pulled away slowly, looking at me with those soft grey-blue eyes of his, a smile on his face. "You shouldn't have left me without saying anything in the first place. Had to take a spiritual call?" The sarcasm and laughter in his voice was painfully obvious.

Shrugging, "Can't shove off the higher powers, if you get my drift." He nodded, shaking his head. We were quiet for a spell, the rain continuing to drown the world around us.

I glanced away from the sight, "I didn't succeed that day."

The super soldier turned, a look of confusion on his face. "What?"

My head bowed, dark locks of hair hiding my face partially. "I didn't stop the murderer from escaping. I caught him and took the guy down in one of the corridors, nearly getting away with the Serum in my fist. He punched me good and I fell. It broke, and the murderer ran off."

His gaze didn't waver, "You tried your best. I caught the guy anyway, though he took a cyanide pill before I could even ask him anything. It wasn't your fault."

I nodded, saying nothing. My feet were beginning to feel quite numb, and the dew collected on my eyelashes seemed to freeze. _Damn weather_, I thought bitterly. Steve noticed, suddenly bursting out and laughing.

Glowering, I addressed him with an accusing tone, "What are you laughing at, Mister?! Finding something _amusing_?"

He calmed to chuckling, "You are barefoot in Germany, during the early Fall. How stupid are you?"

I scowled good-naturedly at him. "Lost my shoes when chasing that guy, walked barefoot through the weather. Give the Redskin points for being able to last this long!"

"Alright, I'll give you some credit," said Steve, pausing. "Are you aware of what I have been doing?"

"Hmm, like you being a traveling theatre star with a bunch of flipsy bimbos in spangled costumes? Geez Steve, give me some slack."

There was silence.

"...Seriously, tell me what's troubling you. People don't think women or Indians are good listeners, but we really are. Speak now or forever hold your sulking peace!" I declared, being flamboyant and ridiculous.

Steve looked at me like I went mentally insane. "You just said it! Why would I need to tell you anything more?"

My expression softened some, "Because you're you, and you need someone to talk to about your feelings and troubles. Friends have your back for a reason, Steve.."

He locked his eyes on me, simply gazing into my hazel-green orbs. Then he ducked away and let out an aggravated sigh. "You always win arguments against me, so I give. Sometimes you just behave like you know all there is _to know_ about the world," he said with a weak smile.

I stiffened. He was right about the last statement._ I do know everything... What will happen and what could not_, I thought with shock. It dawned on me this was probably the curse of the Time Traveler, though I didn't want to be.

I regained my composure, sitting there quietly listening to Steve openly talk about his frustrations. He was worried for Bucky, he hated going on stage like a 'trapeze monkey' would, and he felt the need to actually take part in this war than to just travel around as entertainment for suffering soldiers. Steve seemed so very normal when he was telling me all of this, his expressions modeling his face like before the Serum and wearing some type of smirk or faint smile like it was nothing. The guy was really unique.

A few minutes later when he went back to voicing his concerns about Bucky, Peggy Carter came along. She smiled when she spotted us both, looking pleased. Walking over, the woman patted us both on the shoulder.

"So Redskin, came back from convening with the spirits?"

I rolled my eyes, "Why does everybody assume I do that? What about sneaking off and taking some shots of Vodka or blowing off steam?" I complained. I shook my head, "White people these days..."

"HEY!?"

"Cool it Steve, I was making a joke."

"It wasn't very funny."

"There weren't any Blacks or Native Americans around to prove my point."

"Colonel Philips really has rubbed off on you, Amelia." It was Agent Carter.

"Sadly, Yes. Wish you rubbed off some of your great aim, Peggy. I could at least be able to shoot a bullseye once with a little vibe."

"You are quite a strange Indian."

"Thanks, Peg."

She nodded shortly. "Also..." began Peggy, turning to Steve, "Rogers, you were actually entertaining the 107 infantry. They were in the front lines, so you can't hate them for their lack of humor."

_Wait, what? When did this become a chat-fest about his theatre career?_ My friend beside me looked mortified.

I gave him a questioning look, "Steve, you okay? The look on your face makes me think you just got spooked by the Ghost of Christmas Future."

Before I could say anything more, I was yanked to my feet and running along in the pouring rain with Steve holding my petite wrist. "What the hell is up with you, Man?! Can you at least tell me what was freaking you out so bad?!" I demanded.

"Bucky," was the singular name he answered with._ Barnes was in the 107? Ol' Buck? Holy shit._

We ended up in the Colonel's base of operations, which did not make him look too happy towards Steve. I on the other hand received a surprisingly warm smile from him, or at least the best smile he could pull off. _Creepy._

"So the Redskin came wandering back again, I see. Good! We'll be needing you in the coming weeks in the front lines," He announced with a strange tone of pride.

"WHAT?" I said, the pitch in my voice going up a few octaves. Steve didn't look all that glad about the news either, but he had another reason for running through the rain to get here.

"Sir, I have a request."

"What is it, Captain America? Your tights need dry cleaning."

_Woah, Colonel just flat out insulted him_, I thought with shock.

"Sir, did a man in the 107 unit arrive with the last name Barnes? B-A-R-"

"I know how to spell, you fool of a soldier! Give me a minute, I've been writing condolences all day." The Colonel shuffled amongst the papers laid out on the tables around him, looking for the name. The frustration was open for all to see, coming off of Philips in crashing waves. He slapped the papers back down, looking back at Steve. Coldly he told Rogers that he vaguely remembered writing a letter to his family recently. He offered condolences, then harshly ordered him away.

Steve wasn't done with his commander just yet. He took a few firm steps forward towards Colonel Philips, his mouth set in a straight line. My instincts were screaming at me to be careful. Something was going to go down.

"Why are you sending Walker out to the front lines? She can't even shoot a gun properly, let alone accurately," My good friend said strongly, making me regret ever telling him what I had doing during my Night Classes with Peggy a few weeks ago.

"Her skills beyond guns tell me otherwise, Rogers. Agent Carter trained Walker herself, and the results and proven promising. You on the other hand, have not proven to be any benefit at all to this program. Go back to your stage and dance the Can-Can!"

Steve looked speechless. I was too, having heard from _Colonel Philips_ I was much more a promising soldier than the Super Soldier himself. It just felt **_weird_**.

The tall young male turned and walked away quickly, leaving me to look between him and the Colonel like a lost puppy. _Who should I go with?_

Remembering that Steve and Peggy bribe a plane and pilot (who might I add was none other than Howard Stark, future father of Tony Stark), I gave Philips a two-finger solute and rushed back into the rain after Rogers.

Upon reaching the tent where Steve was literally shoving his gear into a duffle, I encountered Peggy and himself arguing. She was strongly against him pursuing Bucky, who Rogers now forced himself to believe was still alive out there. I wouldn't have minded thinking that either, since I found that brunette quite the amusing fellow.

"So can I come?" I suddenly interjected, successfully gaining their attention.

"Oh, not you too!" cried Peggy, looking agitated beyond reason.

"What? Buck considered me a friend too, even if I only knew him for a day," I protested.

"The Colonel will not be pleased," Peggy countered sternly.

"He won't be pleased if Steve leaves either. I mean, the Serum must have costed a pretty penny to develop. It's like loosing a living _Bank of America_!" Both of them raised an eyebrow at that.

I stared back, "What? Steve's Captain America, he's from America, so technically that would make him **_BANK_** of America."

They chuckled, Steve shaking his head. "If you're going to come along, what are you going to use? We don't exactly have a lot to use," He questioned, gesturing to his steel shield prop.

He has a point, I thought lamely. I looked around the spacious tent, studying the objects around us. There were stylized hard helmets with blue and white, the tacky spangled dresses and their accompanying accessories, and bins of assorted props. I swung my backpack down from my back, opening the flaps. Stirring through the wide range of sheathed spangled dull knives, there was a collapsable flag pole. It was about as tall as Steve, which was a perfect size for a spear. The topper looked exceptionally sharp, which was promising. Glancing around, I spotted some cans of paint. I broke them open, finding a rich burgundy and a vibrant orange. Lucky me! I dunked it in, soaking each segment in the deep red. I took my fingers and dipped them in the orange, quickly drawing out patterns over the red. It dried fast, which was nice.

I turned back, grinning deviously at my befuddled companions. "Let's go, great Bwana America! We got a certain male deer to save."


	5. The Little Redskin Calling the Shots

_Thanks my few reviewers for the feedback and the support! One of you were nice enough to comment that I actually capture the time period accurately, which me really happy. Others were pleased with my decent writing skills and long story declaration. Great to know this fan fiction narrative can be appreciated, as it should be. This chapter is going to have some action, so get ready..._

_PS, I broke my habit of writing around 4,000 words and went over 5,000 or so._

_Read and Review!_

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Little Redskin Calling the Shots**

I was in the plane with Howard motherfucking Stark.

It's really hard to deal with the fact that, as a victimized Time Traveler, you meet people who you never expected to in your entire life. It was one of those moments.

"Hello there, Lady. My, you are a fine-looking Indian Princess if I ever saw one," greeted the flirtatious Stark. He was dashing in a suave sort of way, with his mildly unkept hair and clean cut mustache. His smile was pretty hard to ignore too, but I found it lacking compared to the genuine grin Steve could deliver.

"You too, Millionaire White man." Steve coughed back a laugh from in the passenger area with Peggy, since I sat where the co-pilot would go.

My decked-out flag pole was leaning against my crossed legs, the vibrant colors of paint catching the light now and then. Steve and I had taken turns changing in the rear compartment, outfitting ourselves in more suitable garb for the field. My clothes had not actually improved, providing more comfort than essential need. My patterned Native-style scarf was around my neck, and I wore a long sleeve male shirt than a grudged tank top. Beyond that I was still wearing my altered uniform and_** T I M E**_ device around my neck, which was underneath the shirt and scarf.

Steve's outfit was an obvious mix of both comfort and utility, with his brown leather jacket and extra large military uniform underneath. A painted hard helmet was strapped to his head, blue except for a white 'A' on the forehead. The stupid shield sat beside him, and the duffle he had filled at the camp was hanging from the straps on his shoulders.

_We finally match_, I thought with a chuckle.

Previously, before I was greeted by the famous Stark, Peggy and Steve had been planning the infiltration I was going to carry out with the Super Soldier as soon as we reached our destination. The two of them argued for a good fifteen minutes, and I had simply chose to be silent and sit up front with Stark. As soon as I had sat in the co-pilot seat beside Howard, the man kept glancing at me with lingering looks.

I never considered myself extremely attractive by any means. I was pretty average for a part-Native American woman, with no excessive chest or bizarre characteristics. Just the normal tanned skin, dark hair color, and unimpressive size. My hair was also very long too, having grown well past my waist after so many weeks of being unattended to.

But here I was, being flirty yet sarcastic with Howard Stark after Peggy and Steve had finished arguing like an old married couple.

"C'mon, Dollface! Don't be so hard on a man made with success. Is it hard for you to tell your name to a honest genius?" Stark shimmied his eyebrows, smiling all the while he said it.

Smirking, "My name's Amelia Walker. You may have heard of me by another name, most likely Redskin, from Colonel Philips."

His expressive face lit up with recognition. "Oh! That was you?! The one with an order on a spiffy spearhead? My, you must be an impressive fighter if the Colonel has me making you a weapon."

I blushed, feeling like I was receiving too much attention. "I'm pretty normal, actually. The Super Soldier is in the back, along with the British Agent."

Howard and I laughed shortly at my remark, which somehow caused Steve to lightly blush.

"Well then Miss Normal, why are you on my plane? Know the guy Rogers is after?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I knew the guy. I didn't know him as long as Steve, but I knew him well enough to tag along on this crazy rescue mission," I answered honestly. "Anyway, they say it's the crazed ones that last longer than the sane."

"Who told you that?" Stark asked.

"My seventy-eight year old mother and her mountain of frayed books."

His eyebrows shot up in bewilderment. "Books?" Asked Howard, incredulous.

I turned to him, "What?"

He shrugged, his hands on the wheel. "I never thought you actually read any books, with your outfit an-"

WHACK.

"_The Hell?!_" Stark bellowed. Steve and Peggy jumped at his angry outburst, looking to see my flag pole hovering above the millionaire's head, moving back into my lap. The man had a hand prodding his developing bruise, the other still diligently on the wheel.

"What was that for?!"

I put my hand on my chin, stroking it like I was pondering the answer. "Hmmm...Maybe because you just _assumed_ I was _illiterate_ and _poor_ because of what I am wearing and my nationality?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but thought better of his next few words and closed it.

After a few seconds silence, "I still think you're pretty."

Then it was Peggy and Steve's turn to ball with laughter, my groans of embarrassment being the background noise of their euphoria. But, all too soon the happy chatter and giggles ended when a missile of some sort clipped the right wing of Stark's plane.

"Time to go!" I yelled, scampering quickly out of my seat with my backpack on and the flag pole in hand. Steve hooked his shield on his pack, then glanced at the mounted parachutes._ Is he really considering not using one?_

My answer came five seconds later when the plane swooped down low enough for Captain to grab me and leap out of the plane, cradling my small form against himself.

* * *

_Well, that went just fine, _I thought dryly, walking quickly to keep up with Steve's long strides.

Super Soldier and I had landed somewhat safely, except for maybe a few bumps and bruises from the branches of the surrounding trees. Now we were moving swiftly through the forest, trying to find a road or the base supposedly holding the prisoners itself. Steve was forcing himself to walk, fearing I would be unable to keep up with his accelerated running speeds. I knew I would be more than capable, but for the sake of time, I decided not to argue.

About fifteen minutes after our rough landing, the two of us finally found evidence of a heavily driven dirt road, muddy and covered with fresh tire tracks. Steve turned to me, motioning to run. I happily obliged, still very much barefoot after all the fuss Steve had made about it earlier in the day. He had made me go first, setting the pace.

As I had suspected, Steve kept up easily with my speed. Within seconds we encountered the enemy base, guarded by armored men and bob-wire fences. Flood lights followed invisible paths in the sodden earth, watching for unwanted movement. The gates were open, truck after truck with a creepy looking logo imprinted on the tarp driving in. With a single shared look, we silently agreed on the next plan of action.

_Time to compromise one of these fuckers_, I thought gleefully, passing my flag pole from my left hand to the right in anticipation.

The last truck passed, the two of us latching on and hopping through the flaps of the tarp-covered compartment. We landed in one sinuous movement, gaining the attentions of the seven armored personnel with gas masks hiding their faces.

"Hello boys," I said with a wink.

Within seconds the men were piled in the corner, broken helmets and cracked masks visible. Steve finished them before I could even hop in with my spear, much to my disappointment.

"You didn't leave any for me," I grumbled lowly at him.

He glanced at me, his eyes somehow shining brightly in the poor light under his hard helmet with a glare. "There will be more in the complex, Amelia. Just be thankful we even got this far."

"I'm thankful, I'm thankful! We're here for Bucky after all, not a warrior's glory run."

We said nothing for the rest of the short trip inside, the truck backing up onto a ramp for unload. As the door for the back compartment fell, Steve dashed forward and quickly knocked out the guard standing at attention. Following close behind, I glanced around as I went by, memorizing the features of the buildings.

Passing through the unloading check point, we weaved amongst the war machines parked in an orderly fashion around the enemy base. Minutes after that, I was hoisted up buildings on Steve's back or shoulders, running quickly so the flood lights would not spot us. The Super Soldier would knock out one or two armored guards along the way, still leaving me without any action. I guess I should have been grateful, since it was my first time actually fighting in the War I was told to join.

Then it dawned on me as the two of us were about to break into the main body of the complex, that I should probably attempt to record what would be ahead. Stupid idea during an inflitration such as this, but how else were Steve and I going to make up for our lack of following orders? Take pictures with my iPhone, steal some enemy tech, and then save some soldiers, that's how!

My free hand dug into the right pocket of my uniform-trousers, touching the cold rubber and plastic casing of my iPhone. Pulling it out, I unlocked the screen and readied my thumb for rapid-fire shooting through the Camera app.

Steve looked behind at me, checking to see if I was ready. His eyebrow shot up at the sight of the 'advanced' technology in my left hand, the case being a lovely turquoise and grey.

"What are you doing?" He asked in confusion.

"Readying my phone to take some very informative photos to save our asses from being fried by Colonel Philips," I answered with a smile.

He was dumbstruck. "That...is a Phone? And a camera? Where did you get that?"

I deadpanned, "Is this really a good time for me to explain, Steve? We should get moving and not dwell on the ideals of advancing technology."

That quieted his protests, and we descended into the main sector of the base. All sorts of machinery surrounded us, from iron pipes to glowing blue energy sources. My camera was going wild, trying to keep up with my swiftly tapping thumb. Steve once again took it upon himself to take out any opposing forces, controlling the situation with ease.

We were blindly trying corridors, weaving through forests of pipes, and fighting foes in search of the cells holding the prisoners. I whacked and smashed a few times with the blunt side of my flag pole, throwing my opponents in Steve's way to allow myself to sneak a dozen more pictures here and there.

"Duck!"

I dropped to the floor, swinging my flag pole up blindly towards what I decided to be an enemy. A loud clang rang out in the corridor, the weapon vibrating in my grasp. Opening my eyes, I found that Steve had attacked the guard at the same time, clashing with my lovely flag pole. Our opponent lay motionless on the ground, a large dent evident on his body armor.

I looked up at my friend, seeing him smirk down at me. "Enjoying the floor, Amelia?"

"Plenty. Mind helping me up, Captain?" My free hand stashed the iPhone back in its proper pocket, coming up in an open gesture for aid.

The man grasped my smaller hand and pulled me up easily, my body jumping into his chest. Without warning a blush broke out across my face, mirroring Steve's. _Why am I acting like a school girl now of all times? Snap out of it, woman!_

I broke the contact, motioning Rogers onward down the corridor. The area got considerably darker, the temperature dropping. Cold and dark weren't exactly my favorite environmental conditions, especially in enclosed spaces. Sunlight and outdoor space was up to my speed, so I allowed Steve to continue leading on. Quietly we entered a expansive room filled with a collection of rounded cages, which were actually a large number of funky prison cells.

Deciding to take charge of the situation, I passed Steve and soundlessly snuck up on the single oblivious gas-masked guard. His back was facing me, the strange laser gun all these fighters bore loose in his hand.

_Okay, I'll sneak up real close; Close enough to be his shadow without touching him. Then I'll deal a swing to his back, a kick to the back of his knees, and then do a sweep to topple him over. Afterwards, spear the neck like a flubbed fish. _But staring a little longer at the back of the large opponent, my feeling of sheer success sunk to my stomach. _Piece of Cake_, I thought sarcastically.

The little fight did not go as well as I had thought it would be. As I went to swiftly carry out step two of the mental plan, the nameless enemy turned at the last second. Instead of swinging at the back, my pole connected with his side. It didn't have the desired effect, egging the man on to retaliate than to surprise.

Adrenaline surging through my system, I instinctively reacted. With all the strength I had, my foot crashed into his frontal armor and propelled him away from me. The guard stumbled, feet catching at the bars below his feet. As his right foot fell through one of the gaps, I ran at him desperately and tackled him down. The guard's leg slipped through entirely, twisting with a disgusting crack. The masked man was about to let out a cry, until the sharp topper on my flag pole dived ruthlessly through his windpipe like a crude spearhead.

I leapt away from the body before any amount of blood splashed on me, but the damage was already done. _I just killed a man_, I thought shakily. The blood-covered flag pole was in my hands, but I dared not to stare at it too long. If I thought too long about what I had just done, I would most likely lose it right then and there. So I didn't even glance back at the damage.

Ripping the keys from the lifeless corpse, I threw them at the unmoving form behind me named Steve. Reflexively he caught them, not even taking his eyes off me as I slowly reached his side.

"We'll talk about this event later," I whispered quietly, a pleading tone.

He said nothing, but his expression was one of pity. Steve went right back to soldier mode thereafter, throwing the keys through the bars to the prisoners below. Together the two of us dashed down a set of stairs, reaching the ground level of the prison. Men by the hundreds filed out of their respective cells, passing on the wad of keys to the next trapped man.

They quickly gathered around Steve and myself, having seen and heard my mildly speedy yet brutal dispatch of their jail keeper.

I spoke first, "Everyone free? No stragglers?"

From the fray, a group of varying soldiers emerged. One was a large Caucasian man, a plain brown bowler hat sitting on his head with a distinctive ginger handlebar mustache. Another was a normal-sized male, a red beret perched to the side of his head with the British code of arms pinned upon it. Three others stood behind them: a savvy black man, an Asian, and a Frenchman with a very interesting curled mustache.

_What a group of varied nationalities_, I thought humbly.

"They have all been freed, Ma'am," answered the male with the beret, his accent reminding me of an Englishman. _I'll ask him that question later_, I thought jokingly.

"Good. Captain, what's the next plan of action?"

Steve was startled to attention by my question. His mind worked quickly, and he answered without sounding misplaced, "We need to get out of here without loosing or leaving too many men behind. Is there a soldier named Barnes among you?"

"No Sir, not that I am aware of," responded the guy with the handlebar mustache.

Rogers paused for a second, "Alright then. Redskin," I twitched at the name, "Lead these men out of here, and keep them alive. Use any resource you find as a weapon, and take it with you. I need to find Bucky, so I leave these soldiers to you. Think you can handle that?" He ended with a smile.

I switched my flag pole from my left to the right, covering my face like I was astonished. "Captain, I may be three years older than you, but I am not _senile_! Just make sure you actually get out of this place with Bucky and _not_ stay here as your own private crypt."

He nodded, and with a jerk of his head we both began walking briskly down the hallway before us. I paused, hearing none of the soldiers following. Steve also stopped, noting I was not following him.

I raised an eyebrow at the unmoving soldiers, "What's holding up the train? Do you want to stay here like a bunch of caged parrots?"

"Who are you?" Asked the savvy black man.

Steve answered behind me, "I'm Captain America and this is my partner, Redskin. I have punched Adolf Hitler twenty times in the face."

_He just used one of the lines from his stage skit! I'm so proud_, I thought with a smile. _But I have to be called the racist name Redskin... Figures._

Without saying more, the men swiftly followed right behind us. Either they had seen enough from Steve and I to deem us an ally, or they actually believed Rogers when he said he punched the radical Nazi leader. _I'd think them dumb if it's the latter_, I thought absently.

* * *

Steve and I were going to split up soon when the corridors forked, when I suddenly had a stroke of brilliance.

"St-Captain!" I said loudly over the loud ruckus of the soldiers. My companion turned to me, questioning.

"What Ame-Redskin? I need to get going and find Bucky."

I dug my hand into my pocket, pulling out my iPhone and placing it his hand. "Take this. Just press the little button on the side and the camera will come on. Tap the little button on the screen and it'll take a picture," I explained. Steve looked at the piece of advanced tech like it would devour his hand whole. He looked back up at me, bewildered. "Don't lose it, Cap. It's worth more than my life."

The American man nodded, putting it in his leather jacket pocket and trotting off. I knew I had done the right thing, if not in a somewhat indirect way. For some reason, I remembered that Steve would have a hard time remembering the important map on the wall where he finds Bucky. _If he takes my advice, Steve should be fine along with Bucky. Movies can be so helpful at times!_

All the soldiers were still diligently at attention behind me, awaiting further instructions. My mind whizzed about, working out the layout of the complex Steve and I had previously trampled through. I turned to the group of males that I had spoken to before, who all seemed to have some strength of command amongst the ranks of soldiers.

"We'll be needing some weaponry if we're going to make it out of this crazy place alive. Follow me," I commanded, turning back to the empty corridor before me.

Without having to say anything, the men behind me organized the remaining soldiers in their respective ranks, which impressed me to say the least._ I may have become part of the United States Military, but I'm not really a soldier kind of person. Just somebody that looks out for everyone and protects those who need it. These guys sure know what they are doing compared to me..._

My large infantry of soldiers and I reached what I had remembered being the armory of the base, which was filled with a mix of both standard issue weaponry and crazy HYDRA-labeled technology that would probably make Howard Stark have a Nerdgasm. The room was quite large, large enough for all the men to fit inside with space to spare. The savvy black man from earlier rushed to close the door, a sigh of relief escaping most the men around him. Their attention quickly returned to me, expectant.

But, I wasn't looking at them. My eyes were roving around the place, looking for military-issue radios. Sure they were clunky and annoying, but technically, it helped keep everything organized and up to date. _And when I say that, I mean kept up on their orders and alerting me of any problems_, I thought. Then I finally found the table covered in radios, making me smile. I crossed the way, picking one up and dialing it to wavelength 3.9. There was static, loud and annoyingly empty of anything. _Perfect!_

I turned to look at my subordinates, "Alright Boys, listen up! My job is to make sure we all get out of here safely with this place up in flames. I want all of you to load up on weapons and ammunition, so I don't have to hold your hands while I fight the bad guys. Take what you need though and leave the rest. We travel light, we go hard."

I paused, chuckling on the inside. For some reason the rap song _Brooklyn (Go Hard) by Jay-Z_ suddenly came to mind when I was making this weird order-speech, the tune going, "_Brooklyn we go hard, We go hard_..." My eyes glanced over to the five men who seemed to be in charge, studying them.

I strode over to them with what I hoped was a commanding presence, " You five, do you know each other?" I asked strongly.

They collectively blinked, mildly shocked I was asking them something like that while we were still behind 'enemy lines.'

"Yes Ma'am, we've worked together in the 107 unit almost as long as this war has been going on," spoke the male with the red beret, his accent very much British. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I want you guys to lead these soldiers respectively, taking the outer yards surrounding this big complex section by section. I see no reason to nominate a different group of soldiers, since they all seem to have your respect. After all, why make men follow a leader who they distrust? Poor planning if you ask me," I answered.

One thing someone can always credit me for was my ability to plan. I could assess the resources, along the tools at hand, and turn garbage into gold. This situation was just on a larger and much more dangerous scale. I had a wide range of weaponry at my disposal, both standard-issue and HYDRA-grade. The group of soldiers around me were about two hundred or so strong, all having seen the true horrors of the front lines for almost as long as the War itself. From the looks of their varying uniforms, these men came from all walks of life.

Since they were now isolated from the body of the functioning 107 unit, the men had created their own ranking system. The five soldiers standing in front of me had ended up the leaders of this new system. Respect and former ranking seemed to have played a part in their rise to leadership. I had butted into this grand scheme of things, throwing it off.

But that would not do.

The plan was simple: My very acute observations of this rag-tag group of soldiers yielded me to decide their system should stay. _When respect and boundaries are already set amongst men, it is wise to leave it, _my logic reasoned. I would give the orders to the five, and they would command the rest as they perceived. Each leader would command a number of soldiers, and each group would have an even balance of both traditional guns and HYDRA laser shooters. That way, when guns failed, lasers took the heat. I would also have the men apprehend as many HYDRA war machines as possible, given the fact these weird German bad guys had some pretty sick technology in their midst.

It was a pretty basic plan, but I was rushing because of time. I replayed said plan to my five new companions, receiving no complaints. They seemed to realize I was much more open to suggestion than the average soldier, but maybe that was because I was a laid-back woman and not a masculine fighting man. Either way, the five military 'leaders' were on the same page as a flag pole-bearing little woman like me... It was quite a sight.

The military men in the room immediately went about their business, awarding through the stacks of guns and ammo for their proper weapon. As promised, a few brave individuals selected the laser shooter guns, weighing them in their hands and gauging the range. Each of my five new comrades were yelling out commands, ordering their men into lines or grouping them in an organized formation.

I, on the other hand, discovered a box of glowing blue containers behind a few upturned tables. _These must be those Tesseract-charged things_, I thought suddenly. I kept thanking my lucky stars that I actually bothered to see _Captain America: The First Avenger_ when it came out in theaters back home. If I hadn't, I don't think I would have known what was going on after each time-jump I've had. _Troublesome, it would have been!_

Out of good charity for Stark, I stuffed the box into my backpack for safe keeping. You never know when that might come in handy, I thought. Zipping my pack up again, I found a fabric cover lying on the floor at my feet. Feeling that I would probably feel more guilty after than before, I swiftly cleaned off the drying blood on the flag pole. I threw the reddened thing back to the floor, turning and striding over to the armory door.

All the men went silent. In their arms were machine guns and HYDRA weapons, grim looks on faces. My five male companions walked forward, giving me sharp but confident nods.

I nodded right back, my visage holding the air of stoicism, "Let's get back to camp in time for early breakfast, Boys. I'm starving."

The door opened, and I charged through with my flag pole held high like a spearhead of war.

* * *

That night I had killed over fifty HYDRA-affiliated men in less than an hour.

Within that span same of time, I had also learned the names of each of the five men. My personal favorites were James Falsworth (the dude with the red beret), Gabe Jones (the savvy black man), and Jaques Dernier (the Frenchman). They all, inspire of the circumstances, were quite the loud and joking bunch of men I had ever met in this time.

The other two, Dugan (Mr. Handlebar mustache and bowler hat) and Jim Morita (the Asian guy), were also very humorous. Only Morita wanted to be home with his extended family and Dugan was there for a good fist fight or two. Still quite lovable all the same.

I was referred to as Redskin now in the maddening chaos of this battle, the polite "Ma'am" greetings dropped in the haste of speaking through the radios. The outer yards of the base were lit up with explosions, grenades and laser technology destroying everything and anything. My flag pole's sharpened ornament was now permanently stained a sickening crimson, the blood of my enemies clinging to it with unknown vigor. Gun shots rang into the night, breaking any peaceful silence there once was.

I was everywhere, stabbing and whacking, swinging and slashing in a macabre of crazed need. Somehow I had prevented any of the soldiers from death, though I had nearly met the receiving end of quite a few lasers on more than one occasion that night. I was dirtied with mud, damp clumps of soil, dried blood, and slick sweat. My entire body was a single pulsing my bruise. I had bashed into enough people to warrant three medals, and nearly broke a bone or two along with it.

_Steve needs to get out here soon, or I'm going to fall dead from all this suffering before we all leave_, I thought angrily. Peggy had taught me well, but my body mass and muscle mass was not enough for fighting on this scale. Little ol' artist Amelia who worked for Google as a developer and art designer was having a **_hell_** of a time being a soldier.

BOOM...BOOM-BOoooooM! BoOooOOm!

I turned away from my recently skewered opponent, watching as the complex was beginning to explode into pieces. "STEVE!" I screamed in alarm.

Then safety of the soldiers popped into my head at the exact same time. I clicked the radio on hurriedly, "James, we need to get out of here now! Tell the others to mobilize their men and break for the forest and get as far as possible away from here. The explosion of the base could be fatal for us if we stay here any longer!"

Falsworth buzzed in, "But Redskin, what about the Captain? He's still in there!"

"I know that, James, but he told me sure make sure you and your men get out of here safe. That is what I am doing, and I'm sticking with it!" I bellowed over the explosions. I was the little Redskin calling the shots, and not one to be denied.

A submissive 'Yessum' came moments later, and soldiers around me were yelling and screaming about high-tailing it out of here. I looked back one more time at the large metal made complex, turning away and breaking into a full-on sprint to the forest through the now wrecked bob-wire fences.

Once we were all out, I radioed Morita to alert the rest of the guys to meet up farther along the road. He agreed, turning off his signal. I did also, resuming my sprinting frenzy into the smog-enshrouded night. About five miles out, I decided to stop. If Dugan or James were worried about me, they could easily radio for my position.

I was beyond exhausted, my legs burning from all the sprinting and the rushing out during the battle at the HYDRA base. Where my shirt was torn or cut, I could see the gashes and bruises worsening beneath. My long eyelashes fluttered, the hazel-green eyes beneath them unfocused.

_This is weakness feels like_, I thought out of the blue. My mind wandered into the realm of incoherent thought, the breaths I was taking shallowing. I knew I wasn't dying, but the fact I was this tired shocked me._ I guess I give my all when there's a fight to be had._

I didn't hear the weighted footsteps coming towards me, or the rapid breathing of two men. All I heard was my steady heart beat, lulling me into a strangely sound nap.

Or at least until the men who were close to my proximity began yelling.

"**_AMELIA!?_**"

I literally jumped two feet off the ground from freight. "**HolyMotherfuckingShit**!" I cried in a hurried fashion, arms flailing Around to cover my head in a protective gesture. _Stupid_, I thought.

Then there was laughing. Laughing that sounded very familiar...

"Steve? Barnes?" I questioned, opening my eyes slowly and relaxing my arms.

There the two old friends were, grinning from ear to ear at me from their overlooking positions. Their clothes were either singed or dirtied by soot, their faces smeared with grease or oil of some sort. Steve still had on his stupid blue hard helmet, the shield badly damaged and missing over half its original paint job. Bucky looked raged and in need of shaving, dog tags clinking around his neckline. Most of his uniform was missing, except his pants and boots.

Without warning, I tackled Barnes in an epic neck hug. He practically fell over like a cut tree, crashing hard on the ground. The brunette was laughing outright, Steve watching and guffawing. Then I leapt up and vaulted into Steve, knowing it was impossible to knock this man over with a surprise hug. A shocked look briefly swept through his features, only to be replaced with relief and joy.

The embrace we shared was different than before, like something at some point had changed. He was gentle yet firm, drawing me close enough to hear his heart beat normally. My arms were around his upper waist, since it was impossible for me to hug him around the neck with his towering height. It was just a prefect moment.

"Awww, I gotta hook you two up after this War. The cute kids you'll have must be named after me, or el-"

Barnes was kicked with fervor in the knees, cutting him off and sending him to the forest floor once again.

"Time to go back to camp!" I announced quickly, sprinting off before Bucky could unleashed his manly wrath.

_Mission success_, I thought with a smile.


	6. The Red Indian Can Time Travel?

_Here's the next glorious chapter! Thank you everybody who reviewed, you totally made my days happier. This chapter will finally reveal the fact Amelia time travels to everyone, and Howard will make a more prominent appearance within this as well. But don't worry, Steve is in here Too! Just a bit more conflicted and stuck in a dangerous love triangle._

_Read and Review?_

* * *

**Chapter 6: "The Red Indian Can Time Travel?"**

_How did I get back here?_

I was not having a good day today. Between Steve, Barnes, a boasting racist bastard named Colonel Philips, and the almighty Peggy, my head was spinning. Somehow, I can't remember when, I ended up back in Brooklyn with everyone beneath the Antique Store. Peggy informed me the underground hideout was also the base of operations for our secret program besides being an advanced science lab, which was now taken over my Howard Stark himself.

_But why were we back? _

We totaled the Nazi HYDRA base, so there was currently a great deal of planning to do. Steve had been nice enough to discreetly hand back my iPhone, commenting that I should never give it to him again. My answer was a snicker, which he blushed at like the bashful gentleman he was. Barnes and my five compadres were somewhere around 'town', becoming great pals and roaming about the streets with smiles on their faces.

Howard and I had become surprisingly great friends, which also shocked the rest of the whole world as well. I guess word spread of my assault against the genius millionaire quickly, labeling me an enemy of the flirtatious man. But in reality, Howard and I ended up becoming buddies. Flirting was a constant game between us, and it would drive Steve, Peggy, and Philips up the walls in madness. I learned almost every commonplace 40's catch phrase and slang term from him, allowing myself to hide my obviously modern vocabulary. I even helped him draw out blueprints, which gladdened me like no tomorrow.

Yet a lingering fear dwelt within my stomach. _When was the debriefing?_

Nobody knew who I was really besides Steve, though he didn't know the full story. Not a single soul in this alternate universe created by Marvel Comics was aware I was from a different time and/or dimension. The presence of my iPhone during the infiltration of the HYDRA posed a number of problems from me, all stemming from Steve's curiosity and suspicion.

Steven Rogers seemed to be constantly maintaining my life at this point. Ever since that fateful day in that alleyway, it was like I couldn't escape him. I never minded it, he was a fantastic friend and the kindest gentleman. Yet now that friendly relationship changed. I don't know when it did along the line, but it did. We were closer, a type of close that would warrant a woman-man relationship.

I had been somewhat oblivious of it while Steve knew and understood nothing, but then one morning it just presented itself to me. Peggy also was caught up on this confusing relationship, also harboring feelings for the Super Soldier. Unlike me, she flirted and subtly insinuated her feelings to Steve, which I think he somewhat noticed but wasn't sure how to approach. I just sealed up my feelings, acting like normal around Rogers without making any romantic advances. A love triangle literally **raged** between us, and Steve was either innocently clueless or unable to react properly to it.

The fact I was hiding something from my Super Soldier friend didn't help the situation _at all_. The man would hover around me at a distance, pretending he wasn't stalking me when in fact it was quite obvious to my brilliant mind he was. Steve would also at random ask questions, which I would swiftly and subtly shake off with what Colonel Philips called 'Will of the Reds.' That old military man could be so infuriating sometimes...

And today was not going down the way I wanted.

"Colonel Philips requests your presence in the War Room," spoke an unnamed soldier, a messenger for the old racist bastard. I groaned loudly like Lions would when the flies were eating them whole.

"Ah, don't be so grumpy Dollface! Your debriefing with Philips will be over in a jiffy. Then you can come back and arrange a date at a dessert parlor with me," said Howard Stark, flirting and being overly full of himself as always.

I was in the science lab with Howard and his fellow geniuses, sitting at a work table and watching Stark tinker with a large chunk of machinery. A wide range of tools were laid out around him, arching like a metallic rainbow across the steel surface. Stacks of papers littered the area in front of me, covered in random drawings I created as my mind had wandered.

The lights were orangey-yellow above our heads, casting everything in a strange tone of light. I was in my trademark civilian attire, the brown pinstripe suit and native-patterned scarf. My crow charm lay hidden beneath all the fabric, and the _**T I M E**_ device was displayed prominently on the outside. Stark was in his usual expensive clothes, minus the jacket. In its place was a clean white lab coat, the front pocket filled with a varying amount of objects. My backpack sat on a stool between us, closed.

"Alright, alright already!" I spoke grumpily, having been assaulted with ten different flirty yet snarky remarks by Howard within the span of thirty seconds. "I'll go, okay? But if I don't return in fifteen minutes, hide my backpack. All my personal affects are in there, and I sure as bloody hell _do not_ want Colonel Philips to get his hands on it."

Stark nodded, a fake smile on his face. His eyes were serious, which comforted me. "Go get em' Indian Princess. I still have that date involving chocolate fondue to plan with you."

I chuckled with a feminine edge in my voice, "Sure, _darling_." I waved in a mildly flirtatious way, "Ta-ta for now!"

Standing up and walking away from my stool at the work table, I followed the unnamed soldier to the 'War Room' as he had called it. _Personally, I thought it was just where you plan and argue. It would make more sense if it was called the 'Decision Room' instead_, I thought childishly.

Not long after, I found myself standing awkwardly alone off to the side of the 'War Room,' spying Steve, Peggy, and Philips discussing something over a big table-map thing. _Really descriptive of you Amelia_, I thought. The Colonel chose that moment to turn around, spotting me within seconds.

"Ah, Redskin, you're here! Wandered off again I see, though it seems that soldier I asked to look for you was adept at finding you." It was bloody Philips, being rude as usual. _I swear that man will get hurt one day with his dishonorable words._

"What's the problem?" I asked calmly, "Did Barnes gamble off your life's salary? Or was it his nights out at the bar across the street with the guys?"

The Colonel frowned deeply. "No," he answered shortly, "I would like a debriefing on what happened during your personal infiltration of the HYDRA base with Rogers. I still haven't gotten a clear story, and you seem to have been avoiding this like the plague."

_Busted once again_, I thought with a heaving sigh.

"What would you want to know from me? I killed over fifty enemy soldiers with only a flimsy painted flag pole, lead two hundred Allied men into a short but dangerous battle, and helped Steve find and rescue our pal Barnes. That's pretty much what happened," I spoke fiercely, growing more and more agitated by the minute.

Steve and Peggy watched silently, startled into silence by my sharp words towards my commanding officer. Philips looked increasingly displeased, yet still quite confident he was in control of the situation. _Like hell you are_, I thought furiously.

The Colonel folded his hands behind his back, pacing before the mapped-out table. His face was stern, "Rogers here tells me you have a device of some kind, one that's about the size of a cigarette case with the ability to take hundreds of photographs yet be able to call any phone without the need for a phone line."

The commander paused in his pacing, turning sharply in my direction. "Is this true?"

I felt like I was on the spot. All eyes were turned to me, and the tensions of the room rises considerably. Glancing around at the expectant faces, my eyes fell on Steve. He stared unwaveringly at me, not daring to break my gaze. It was written all over his face.

_He exposed me_, I thought, my body feeling numb. I was his friend, yet doubt existed in his mind. Steve jumped the line, and went straight to the top to get the answers he wanted. The ones I had been avoiding.

What I didn't know was Steve in actuality was very much afraid of what would happen. He thought me to be his best friend, our closeness rivaling the friendship he had with Bucky. _Maybe more._ Yet Steve knew I was hiding something, and he was desperate to know. The Super Soldier wasn't a coward, but wild ideas about who I was had tormented his thoughts. Yet at that moment, as I stared unyieldingly with my piercing hazel-green eyes, he became unnerved.

_This must be what Hodge felt when he stared into her eyes that day in the alleyway_, Steve thought with a twinge of fear.

The silence that devoured the large War Room was stifling, and many of the men and women standing shifted nervously. I still steadily stared Steve down, though I was shorter compared to nearly everyone in the room. My mouth set into a straight line, I turned my gaze onto Colonel Philips.

I broke the silence, "If I answer," I said emotionlessly, "Then every man and woman within _this_ room have sworn to never utter a single _syllable_ of what I am about to tell you."

I didn't know what took over me in this tense few moments. I am never one to threaten or feel fear. Maybe feel any of these confusing emotions, but none the less, I felt different. _Just like that embrace I shared with Steve_, I thought. This whole experience as a victimized time-traveling woman had really changed me. I was a stubborn, willful yet funny person before, but now I bore strength and a sense of maturity.

Now I wielded it as if it was already part of who I was.

Philips was silent for a few moments, studying my dark olive-tanned face. "Then answer right now, Amelia. Not a single individual ever speak about what happens in this program, and now it includes you."

I blinked at his use of my first name, then broke out into a light smirk. _He isn't too grumpy and old after all. _The room returned to its former state of bustle, the tension gone.

"Then Colonel, my answer is Yes." I spoke simply.

Peggy blinked with shock, Philips and Steve without any revealing emotion. "So you're saying you possess this advanced piece of technology?" Questioned the British agent, taken aback.

"Yerp. I'm from the Twenty-First Century!" I declared in a mildly happy voice.

Now Steve joined Peggy in looking surprised. "What? Why did you never tell me this before? The coffee shop..." Began Steve. I felt extremely guilty within seconds.

"Would you have believed me if I told you, even without my iPhone?"

The Super Soldier looked thoughtful, then seemed to calm down. "You have a point."

I smiled, "I always try to, Steve." The man smiled back, chuckling.

"Wait just a moment here, Redskin. Are you telling me the Red Indian can Time Travel?" Demanded Philips.

I looked at him reproachingly, "Really Colonel Philips? You _had_ to bring race into this discussion?"

His eyes narrowed, "I'm asking you a question, Walker."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Yes, actually. But it wasn't on purpose, in all honesty. I thought the thing was a bloody hard drive my co-worker sent me, not a Time Machine!"

Peggy raised an eyebrow, "What _thing_?"

My hands gestured to the _**T I M E**_ device hanging around my neck. "This thing!" I spoke loudly, flustered. "This thing called_** T I M E**_! It literally transports me through time, not to mention universes! I _was_ going to visit my genius British friend Delilah, but it bloody started up and threw me here. It's why I vanish at random times, I can't figure out how to use it!" I huffed, throughly stressed out. My hands covered my face, rubbing my eyes.

"I need Vodka," I finished, my hands dragging along my face. I was desiring to collapse in the nearest possible chair.

"I didn't know you drink," stated Steve.

I turned my head, a deadpan look on my face. "Who in this world does not drink? I had my first shot of alcohol when I was fifteen."

Steve's eyes widened, "Are you meaning to tell me you were and underage drinker?"

I raised an eyebrow, "Is this a problem?"

I received no response, only a displeased glare with light blue-grey eyes. Then I turned to Colonel Philips, "By the way, do we have a plan yet for dealing with the rest of the HYDRA bases?"

"We don't have any of their locations besides the one who had destroyed with Rogers."

I gave him a disbelieving look, then glanced over at Steve. "Did you even take pictures with my iPhone like I hoped you would? I literally gave it to you so if you found anything like that you could document it."

Steve looked mildly offended. "I did! I just thought you'd want your gadget back is all..." His face held a faint pout. _Jesus, he's still that little guy I met at the coffee shop even now._

I smiled at him, patting his shoulder. "Then why are we upset? I can pull up the picture right now!" I said in a strangely happy tone. My hand dove into my pant pocket, withdrawing my iPhone. Philips and Peggy watched in interest as I unlocked the screen, tapping the 'Photos' app and scrolling with my thumb through the camera roll. Finally I found what looked to be a World Map covered in markers, comparing it to the map on the table before us. I shuffled through my pockets again, finding a handle of nuts and bolts I collected from Stark's lab.

Comparing the Map to the image on my iPhone once again, I placed each machine part on the area of a designated HYDRA base. Placing the last washer on the table, I locked my phone and pocketed it. I eyed my handiwork, smiling.

I turned then, walking out of the room as fast as I could. "You were saying, Colonel?" I called over my shoulder.

* * *

Moments later, I arrived back in Stark's lab after getting directions from a few passing soldiers.

"I'M BAAAAACK!" I cried, waving my arms around in an amusing little victory dance. Stark looked up from his chunk of machinery, another smile lighting up his face.

"Wow, that was quick! It took you only ten minutes to debrief with Philips, I'm impressed. Come, come!" he said, calling me over. I sat back at my usual spot, happy to see my backpack was untouched.

"Now," Howard spoke, a devious smile on his face, "How about that fondue?"

"I'm not so sure about that, Babe. I would rather go out for drinks than lick chocolate off a silver spoon."

"I wouldn't mind seeing that, though Rogers would probably strangle me."

"HEY! Steve and I are only friends, okay? Not romantic interests."

The genius chuckled, shaking his head with a smile planted on his face. "Mmmmhmmm... Your face tells me otherwise, Doll. Everybody knows about your rivalry with Carter for his attention, and the poor man doesn't even know what to do about it! I'd make a move before the bird hits the fan, so to speak."

I groaned for the third time today, dropping my head onto a recent drawing of a moving tank. "Everybody knows..." I mumbled, feeling dejected and foolish. _This is why I don't do romance_, I thought pitifully.

Howard put his machine down along to the side his tools, wiping greased fingers on a nearby wet rag. He patted my back, still smiling. "Oh, cheer up Walker. If it makes you feel any better, I could help you pick out a dress for a night out and about the town. Though, maybe just a new suit, since you seem to look much more attractive in male clothing than female."

My head perked up, "Really? You'd help me pick out an outfit? And pay for it?!" A grin was progressively growing on my face, matching Stark's.

The smile stayed, "Of course, Amelia! A fine lady like you should have the best, even if she isn't like the rest."

I almost felt like crying, I was so happy. I rarely ever got to go shopping for clothes, mainly because I was either too busy or broke to buy any. Now Howard Stark the Millionaire was taking me out shopping in New York. Words cannot describe my luck.

An abrupt hug of glee was rewarded, "Thank you, Thank you, Thank you! I never have the time or money to actually buy a new pair of clothes. You are a life saver!"

Howard chuckled madly, "If this is your reaction to shopping for clothes, I can't wait to see you at a bar buying drinks."

I laughed, "Don't get your hopes up, Stark. I'm saving that special night dancing for a certain someone, since he failed in doing so when I first went up with him."

"Wait, you actually had a night out about the town with Rogers? Nobody told me this!"

"Ha, well I wouldn't exactly put it that way. It was before he became a Super Soldier, and his friend Barnes wanted to go out dancing. Barnes being Barnes, he invited a bunch of random girls along. Steve though knew his antics and had my number, so he called me up and asked me to come along. I agreed, and the two boys picked me up at the bus station."

"Where'd you go?" Asked Howard.

"Your Exposition, actually. We wandered around and even went to see your show, which was impressive. You should work on bicycles instead of cars, they're much smaller and easier to work with."

He laughed outright, startling a few nearby scientists. "Not a bad idea, Dollface! Speaking of which, I have some plans for you to look at."

The genius stood and walked over to another table, shuffling around his papers about foot away. He wandered back, five large sheets of blue-white grid paper tossed in front of me.

"What are these?" I asked curiously, looking up to the brunette man.

"Plans for that spearhead Colonel Philips wanted me to build for you. I wasn't sure what you'd need and I didn't want to make too many prototypes, so I decided to draw up a couple of blueprints for you to look at."

I turned away from Stark, gazing down upon the five varying designs. It was obvious to my eyes that Howard really put some thought into these blueprints, even if they weren't for a tall Super Soldier like Steve. Each one varied in length, from about my height to over seven or eight feet tall.

_Slight overkill Howard_, I thought.

My mind wandered back to the length of my flag pole, its length being a perfect six foot. It also could collapse into smaller segments, shrinking down to about maybe four feet and less. I didn't ever _try_ to collapse the pole, but it wouldn't hurt to have something that could do that.

Only one of the five addressed these needs, and was somewhat appealing. The spear was surprisingly basic, the head the only complicated feature. The entire thing was to be made of stainless steel, all except the spearhead itself. All along the staff were interlocking joints, which could easily unlock and collapse to be about the length of a standard church-goer candlestick. The head of this weapon was deadly and ordinate, reminding me of a tribal tattoo design I used to draw.

This had a little notation off to the side, _**Vibranium + Power Source?**_

_What's that supposed to mean? Never heard of Vibranium before_, I thought.

"Hey Stark, what's this notation supposed to mean? I've never heard of Vibranium before," I spoke.

"I would be very surprised if you did know what Vibranium was," he commented offhandedly.

"As for what my notation means, I was planning on making a spearhead that could pierce just about anything without actually breaking. Vibranium is an extremely rare metal the government had discovered while back, known be near-indestructible. The Colonel asked me to make a shield out of that stuff for Rogers, but I discarded the idea. Then the power source comment... Well, Steve brought me an interesting artifact from HYDRA, and the power source they have for their weaponry is phenomenal! I thought if I could condense a certain amount of it, I could create quite a powerful spear..." He drifted off, lost in thought.

"But that was extremely ambitious of me, so I left it open to question," he hurriedly finished.

My mind wandered to those strange power sources HYDRA was using. Didn't I grab one before I went out with the soldiers? I swore I did, I thought.

"Howard," I said, gaining his attention. "If I told you I had a very large box full of those glowing blue thingies, do you think you could make that?"

The man raised his eyebrow, "Possibly, but only if I had a large amount to work with. I'd probably go through quite a few rounds of Trial-And-Error before I actually perfected it. Why?"

I smirked, opening my backpack and fishing out the large metal box I had remembered taking. Stark's eyes widened, mouth opened slightly in shock. He looked back at me, "Where...?"

"I snagged it while I was trolling through the HYDRA armory. I had forgotten I had put it in my backpack until now."

His eyes alit with a sudden look of purpose. "Doll, let's make you a Spear that could summon the wind spirits! Gosh this is going to be fun!"

A look a worry crossed my face. _This guy just made fun of Native Americans and gushed about dangerously advanced technology in the same sentence. This is **not** going to be good..._

* * *

"I want you to be a part of my team."

"Of course! ...Wait, what?"

_I, Amelia Walker, have become very much drunk._ Previously, after Stark had a crazy mad scientist streak of brilliance, kept his promise and took me out shopping. I got a snazzy new suit like I had wanted, and afterward we hit the bar across from the Antique Store and drank our hearts out.

Unlike my millionaire friend, I could effectively hold my liquor. Technically, Native Americans have no tolerance for alcohol what-so-ever, but I'm not full blooded, am I? So, I had downed what I think was eight bottles of very strong Russian Vodka, which may have actually been ten. Crazy isn't it?

My fantastic ability for drinking also won me a good deal of popularity from the men in the bar, which may or may not have had to do with my looks. The new suit I wore was a charcoal black pinstripe, along with a pale blue dress shirt underneath. Somehow, my luck proceeded me, and Stark had actually found a pair of authentic moccasins. Immediately I had put them on, and now I wore them to the bar in all their fabulous glory. My trademark scarf and necklaces were also on, moving about with each mildly sluggish movement I preformed.

_Dear God I have never drank this much_, I had thought with a drunken chuckle.

At some point I had traveled farther into the large bar, moving to the back room where the lights were dimmed and the mood was Neutral. I sat at the counter, nursing another tall glass of Vodka, when Bucky and Steve came out of nowhere. They chatted for awhile, their topic completely lost to me. Bucky left later on afterwards, off to stalk a few very attractive looking white girls. Peggy had also appeared, looking absolutely fabulous in her dress.

_Fucking tall sexy British women in their sensual fucking red dresses_, I had thought with intoxicated anger as she departed from my sight. _Competition with that female is impossible! Might as well resign myself to loneliness right now and watch Steve have brunette Brit babies._ I had shivered at the thought. _Lordie..._

"Amelia?"

I turned sharply for about the seventh time that day, though wobbling precariously on my perch called a stool. It was none other than Steve himself, dressed in a fancy army suit that looked exactly like Colonel Philips'. _Looks sexy on him, looks shitty on Philips_, I thought wildly.

A crooked drunken smile lit my face, "Ayy there, Steve! Nice seeing you 'ere!"

Steve's expression went quickly from puzzled to nervous. _Oooooh, Steve doesn't know how to handle drunk women_, I thought smugly.

"How much have you been drinking, Amelia?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but paused. I raised my hand away from my fresh shot of Vodka, counting the number of bottle I had on my fingers. My face lit up again after I figured out the number.

"I have had _EIGHT_ bottles of the lovely Russian alcohol called Vodka, which might I add is _very_ good and _very_ strong! But I might be counting wrong, since I usually lose count after seven.. It might have been more like _ten_ than _eight_."

My male friend now looked quite concerned yet also quite shocked. "You," he said, pointing to me, "Drank more than eight bottles of Vodka? By yourself, all night?" He was disbelieving of my alcohol intake, it was obvious.

"Yerp! Howard offered paying for the drinks, so I couldn't _exactly_ turn it down. He dropped out a while ago, but said he'd pick up the tab. Can't say I'm a _lightweight_!"

He shook his head, watching as I went to down another shot, "What am I going to do with you?" He asked the air, pondering the answer. _Love me, Hate me! Wrap me in that lace and leather as I'm givin' you a show,_ I sang in my head, thinking of Britney Spears.

But before I could even put the little glass to my lips, he snatched it out of my tipsy hands and dumped it in a neighboring man's drink. I began to hastily protest, but the man silenced me with his stare.

"C'mon, Amelia. Let's sober you up. Philips will not be pleased with a drunken soldier wandering his base," He spoke calmly, which mildly scared me. I had thought Steve had with women, yet now he was handling me like it was a breeze.

I grumbled pathetically, mourning for the loss of my precious alcohol. Steve lightly grabbed my arm, leading me along through the bar to the front room. He picked us a nicely cushioned booth off to the side, doting over me in a seemingly awkward way and then seating himself across from me. _Just like it was at Cafe De Cruz_, I thought fondly.

Seconds passed as Steve quietly sat, looking between my intoxicated person and the crowd before us. I calmed considerably, but still a hazy buzz crashed around in my head. _VOooOoDDKA_, I mourned again mentally, my head cradled in my hands. My elbows were propped up on the table, my hair covering my face from view.

A waitress appeared, glancing at me once and quickly saying to Steve, "I'll bring the strongest stuff here." She vanished before he could comment in anything, but Steve didn't mind. He was much more concerned about me than himself.

I caught one of his worried looks. I groaned, rolling my eyes while I cradled my head in my right hand specifically. "Steven Rogers, chill out. Even when I drink this much I'm not viable to do something stupid; leave that all to Bucky."

Steve raised an eyebrow, but smirked none the less. "I'm not sure about that, Amelia. This situation is pretty stupid from my point of view."

I scowled half-heartedly at the Super Soldier, waving my free hand dismissively at him. "Blasphemy: It is what you speak of," I said in a somewhat matter-of-fact way.

We chuckled, but quieted shortly after. The two of us sat in silence again, awkward beyond words.

The waitress came striding back, pulling a VERY large cup of pitch-black coffee from her serving tray in front of me. A little jug of milk and a tray with assorted packets of sweeteners were placed alongside it, which I quickly grabbed for and dumped unceremoniously into the cup.

The woman didn't leave like I had expected, and already I could sense there would be a scene. she was clearly, as bright as day, checking my friend Steven Rogers out with shameless murky brown eyes. I could not deny she was attractive, having a figure people would look for in healthy camera models. But her hair was a dull black and lips covered in brilliant red lipstick that reminded me of Peggy's makeup.

Steve wasn't taking this all that well, looking polite but to my trained eyes very uncomfortable. I could tell now after being around him for over a month or so; he'd get his kind of subtle pathetic look in his eyes, and twitch ever-so-slightly in his seat.

_To think this hunk of funk is a total badass when it comes to engaging HYRDA bad guys_, I ponder at random, chugging the coffee. The waitress then sent Rogers a wink, which made him visibly stiffen. _Now he's really trapped_. I took another huge sip, eyeing her with a spark of unintentional jealousy.

"Move along home, Honey. He's not up for grabs," I announced loudly, marking my technical 'turf' against the hungry woman. I was giving her my famous piercing hazel-green glare, studying her still with a critical eye. The cup was in my hands, close to my awaiting lips. _Whatever ingredient used to make this sure sobered me up fast._

The woman turned sharply at the sound of my feminine voice, eyes widening as she finally noticed who I was. _Yes bitch, I am a woman! Now swing your slutty skirts back to your job or I'm gonna go Poppa-Chappin' yo ass! _

Probably seeing something she didn't like, she commented haughtily, "What? Like you have a chance with him, you painted whore."

I pushed myself off the seat, swinging my legs to the ground and pushing myself into her personal space before she could even flinch. "You wanna go, Baby Cheeks? Because I sure would like to see you try and slap me," I challenged venomously. Nobody called me a Whore. NOBODY.

Her confidence faltered immediately. She turned tail and melted into the crowd, leaving me smug and slightly drunk. Steve sat speechlessly at me, looking lost for words. I calmly sat back down, swallowing the last of my powerful coffee brew.

"You are one person I can never understand," he said with finality.

I sat for a few seconds, "Time Traveler, remember?"

No answer. I stared into the bottom of the cup, watching as the grounds swirled around in the drops of liquid left over. I placed it back on it's saucer, grabbing the milk and pouring it all in. I swirled it around a few times, then swiftly drank it all down. Looking back T the empty cup, the grounds were gone.

"I want you to be a part of my team."

I looked up suddenly. "Of course!..." Then I faltered, "Wait, what?"

"I want you, Amelia, to be a part of my team. You, Bucky, and your five buddies all have experience with the HYDRA. I see nobody better than you and the others. I want your help."

I blinked. Why am I at loss for words? I knew at some point Steve would finally become Captain America like he was meant to be, with Bucky at his side. But I never took into account of my own presence. He wants my help.

"But Steve, I'm a Time Traveler! I vanish at unexpected times, and then appear just as wildly; I have no control of it. I might end up going back to my proper time within the next few seconds! I..."

He held up his hand, silencing me. "I know," he said simply, his famous soft smile on his face. "But I still need you. So again, will you be part of my team?"

_My fate is sealed_, I thought quietly to myself. I stared straight into his soft grey-blue eyes, a commanding look in my hazel-green gaze.

"Yes."


	7. Time Changes Us All, Steve

**Chapter 7: Time Changes Us All, Steve**

_Slash. Swing. Duck. Block. Kick. Swing. Skewer. REPEAT! REPEAT! Jump. Fly. Topple. Stab. Stab. Stab. Run. Slash. Duck. Swing. Stab. Jump. Fly. Plant. Roll. Stand. Run. Duck. Stand. Hide. Stand. Slash..._

My mind was blank, adrenaline and trained instinct the only aides I had. Blood was everywhere, bodies strewn about with extreme hazard. Gas masks covered their assumedly male visages, cracked or slicked with crimson and gore. Body armor was damaged or had been previously torn away, revealing gutted abdomens by unloving bullets. Gunshots, machine generated with what I guessed to be a traditional AK-47 everywhere around me. Flashes of electric blue and explosive red dotted my vision, and voices from my fellow comrades roaring on all sides.

A single man stood back-to-back with me, bearing a rounded star-spangled shield with his right arm. In his left was a well-used pistol, military-issue and always a handy companion. The man's outfit was padded, structured to provide protection against most bullet rounds and decorated similarly to the shield he carried. A strange type of helmet hid his face and hair, serving as both a disguise and protective headgear. Light grey-blue eyes shown brilliantly in the overcast afternoon, focused entirely upon the battle and those he commanded.

I wore an altered uniform jumpsuit, modeling the clothing article after a pair of farmer's work trousers. Underneath was a thickly padded turtleneck just like my male companion's, only the colors utilized were primarily red, orange, blue and golden yellow compared to his very patriotic scheme. Nothing protected my skull, and nothing padded my legs besides the the jumpsuit itself. My feet were bare and calloused, hands gloved in worked leather to be kept warm. My patterned scarf was wrapped readily around my neck, and the_** T I M E**_ device swung wildly around my neck as I moved. The crow charm was buried beneath my padded shirt and trousers, safe from harm and bringing me what luck could be found in the midst of the chaos.

Within my hands was the Spear. Howard Stark had outdone himself, pouring all his heart and soul into making it positively perfect for me. The weapon was exactly six feet long, light and seemingly unbreakable. Just as Stark had planned it, the staff was constructed from stainless reinforced steel. A thin layer of bronze decorated the outer surface, weaving geometric patterns reminiscent of Plains Indians. The joints that allowed the spear to shrink in size were well hidden from the naked eye.

Its head was a true masterpiece, crafted from both Vibranium and manipulated "_Tesseract-charged_" material as I had personally called it (I didn't even dare to speak of the Tesseract in front of Stark or Steve, knowing I'd probably be cornered by Philips again like I had been last time). The design reminded me of both a stylized shark tooth and the clean curving inked designs of tribal tattoos. A faint green X ghosted the exterior of the indestructible metal, the only hint that the strange glowing blue resource had been successfully melded within the metal. It could cut through anything and anyone, unyielding to any of my opponents. Yet the theoretical "_pieces_" of the Tesseract did not stir, offering no energy or vast power like Stark had expected...

* * *

_"I can't believe you actually did it, Howard! Down to the very last detail, Stark, you did it!" I exclaimed with a great amount of euphoria._

_The spear was placed out on one of his work benches, padded cloth laden underneath it. We stood on opposing sides of the table, talking across from each other. My hands itched to touch it, like I was tempting fate just to simply touch the new toy._

_"Go on, Princess. I'm not getting any younger waiting for you. Try it out!" The possibly older man was just as excited as I was. He'd never in his whole life expected to make something such as my spear, and damn was he proud of himself._

_My fingers eagerly brushed the cooled metal surfaces of the breathtaking craftsmanship, a growing grin breaking out on my face. I grasped it with both hands, almost ceremoniously lifting it from the cloth bed. It felt weightless in my hands, as if the spear was actually made of cheap plastic and not one of the strongest metals on Earth. **Or at least in the forties**, I thought with a chuckle. _

_Stepping back from the bench, I swung it around in my right hand. A steady hum echoed in the lab, attracting a few sideways glances from the other scientists. It seemed effortless to wield a spear so fantastically created, or even wield a spear at all. **Little ol' me, both a spear wielding warrior, a victimized traveler through time, and an ex-art developer for Google**, I thought with a dawning realization._

_But then I noticed something was off. "Hey Stark, though the HYDRA tech seemed to mix with Vibranium perfectly fine, did it "retain" any of that energy?" I specifically used the term 'retain' when I asked my question, trying not to hint I knew about the Tesseract or anything. Sure I knew about it, since I had seen the actual Avengers Movie, but I couldn't exactly flaunt my knowledge. If I did, time would become 'messed up.'_

_The man's triumphant expression slumped into the beginnings of a frown. "Oh, I see you noticed... When I was experimenting with the leftovers of Vibranium I had after I made Roger's shield, it was by sheer accident the two even compounded together. I ran a few tests, and all of them came up with nothing."_

_Then Stark's face brightened, "What **was** interesting though... the HYDRA tech actually strengthened the Vibranium even further! The molecules are packed rock-solid, so I can say with a vote of confidence that spearhead will not break **at all**."_

_I blinked a few times in surprise, looking at the spear in my hands and twirling it to gaze at the bladed head. "I guess that's something. I'm just sad my plan didn't work as I had hoped... Oh well~"_

_Twirling it around wildly in my hands, although with little control, I tossed it into the air. I caught it clumsily, nearing slashing Howard's face out of stupidity. He looked mortified, but thankful I caught it. **Still not meant for cool heroic style tricks, not I am a Marvel hero anyway**, I thought._

* * *

...Since then, Steve and I have been shipped all over Europe with our 'elite team' of soldiers to search and destroy all HYDRA-associated hideouts and bases. I don't know how I have been able to deal with the bloodshed I have caused. It's began to haunt my thoughts, drive me awake in fear and sweat at night in the form of nightmares. I can tell it has also begun to wear away at Steve, with the way the Super Soldier would take moments at a time to be alone, simply staring out across the demolished landscape.

As time passes, I come to acknowledge that I have also begun to change more. Or better yet, I am changing. It may seem very reflective and preposterous to notice these changes, but I have always been an aware person. Ever since I have been dropped in this time (literally!), the mood of the people around me just magnetize right to me. The Colonel has probably been the most influential of these people, taking my somewhat stubborn deposition and increasing it ten times. His sense of racism also rubbed off, which isn't the best thing to happen. But there's Steve, who seems to somehow amongst the chaos of War keep on smiling and keeping me perpetually optimistic.

Then there's Peggy. The woman may not always agree with me nowadays, since we're kinda having a relationship triangle rivalry going on, but she taught me to fight. Through her, I have realized I have to stay strong. The phrase seems all gushy and fit for a drama, but it's true. You kill people in the War. There's no bringing them back, and there's no way they're going to be nice to you if you don't. What's done is done for the sake of others, and for the sake of the future.

And that's what it all comes down to now._ Bloody. Mother Fucking. **T I M E.**_

It haunts me with no end. I know I should be careful with what I do, but there's so many different variables I have no control over. My strange feelings towards Steve, my friendly relationship with Stark senior, the strong companionship I share with those five military men, even the bizarre mentor-student thing going on between Peggy and I. It all shouldn't have happened, but it can't be undone. I'm anxious that at any moment I could suddenly disappear from this time and universe, only to open my eyes and find myself back in my little Yurt with my dogs howling outside. The very fabric of time seems to be literally sitting on my shoulders, and all this killing and War is only weighing me down further.

My nimble feet spin me about once again, my arms shooting out to skewer yet another masked opponent. The spearhead drives through the unknown's chest plate without heed, hitting his center which stops all actions. Angling myself, I throw out a kick with my bare foot, freeing the recently made corpse. Crimson spews out, lacing the bladed tip and flying out around the surrounding area to drench all it can. I don't stay to find out, swiftly trying to follow Steve, who at that moment was currently trying to hold an epic Discus death match with the enemy HYDRA grunts.

"Amelia, set the charges!" Yelled the super soldier, throwing his shield yet again and catching it easily as it returned.

"Just a moment!" I bellowed back, having thrown myself to the dirt-covered ground to dodge the lasers of two different armed grunts. Gruffly, I swung out the spear in a low arch close to the earth, holding near the butt of the weapon. The pair fell in a heap, accidentally killing one another. _Seriously? What a way to go_, I thought as I bolted for the core machinery.

In truth, this was another one of the HYDRA production bases, somehow hidden in an abandoned hangar bay. Stark, in our epic mission to destroy all enemy basses compounds, had made explosives that would (of course) simultaneously explode at the push of a button. It had been long decided that Bucky and I would be the ferrets for these charges. Captain was Mr. Button-Pusher, and everyone else had extra TNT as backup.

And now I was frantically dancing around bare foot, pulling charges out of my jumpsuit and slamming them into the machinery. Each one would blink to life, making a faint whirring noise in affirmation. Along the way I berated myself for leaving my things with Bucky; I realized my backpack was not on my person about halfway through. Skimpering about and smacking the last one on a nearby generator, I knocked back a few HYDRA fighters and found myself back with Steve, not to mention the rest of the crew.

"You done?" Yelled Steve over the madness of the guns, shooting his pistol off while holding his shield close to him for protection.

"Yessum!" Turning to Barnes, "Deer Boy, I need my backpack back! There's some seriously important shit in there!"

"Calm down Amelia, I'll give it to you when we get out of this joint! Steve, now would be a great time for you to press that button!" demanded Bucky, while moving to leave. All of us followed, our super soldier covering for us in the rear. I slowed enough to be running alongside him, just in case.

That choice was foolish of me.

Though it was usually customary for HYDRA grunts to carry those fancy laser guns, now and again they would only be equipped with the standard issue German weaponry. Anyone can guess what that weaponry was, it's obvious: Guns, guns, and more guns. Much to my _fabulous luck_ (Que the sarcasm of the century), most of what was left of the HYDRA protectorate was composed of these normal gun-wielding fiends.

Steve noticed my presence, though never spoke verbally to me. The spangled man was too focused, locked in soldier mode and only caring about making sure his team got out safely. He assumed I could take care of myself, which is partly true. I still had a hard time even making through half a fire fight at times, always needing one person as a side-kick, but I could survive.

"Don't do anything stupid, Amelia! The stupid stays with Buck, you hear?" He suddenly yelled, jerking in my direction.

"This doesn't count as stupid if I'm watching out for you! I have a promise to keep, and I'm stickin' to it, dammit!"

The super soldier growled, obviously loosing patience with me for the first time I've known him. Steve shifted himself to try and accommodate me, but I was weaving in an' out too much to really help. Bullets kept flying our way and still I danced around by his side, jabbing or skewering any opponent foolish enough to get closer. Rogers stayed safe with his shield, looking more than displeased. Our crew and us were nearly out, but it was somehow slow due to the amount of enemy fire we were getting.

Captain was nearly bombarded by flamethrowers out of nowhere, and I hid behind Steve in a split second. I clung to his waist from behind, then quickly detaching myself as soon as the heat ceased. In a wild thrill of adrenaline, I charged at the first loaded fighter, shooting the spear out and stabbing through bone and flesh. The bladed tip broke through both the flamethrower's arm bone and ribcage, splashing blood all over as the figure screamed in pain. With a heave, his dying form was propelled at his comrades, who either ignored the body completely or paused in fear. One amongst the ten or so standing flew to their gun, and as I tried to move back to Steve's side, squeezed the trigger blindly in hope of hitting me.

It soared true.

When it hit, I seemed like a consentrated gust of cold European air had buffeted my left shoulder. I stumbled, my hearing ringing fror a reason I had yet to consider. Then the pain came. _Holy mother of God!_ The bullet had lodged itself deep in my shoulder, almost scraping the inner side of the shoulder blade. Tears burned in my eyes, vision clouding.

I heard a resounding yell, my name falling from their lips like a it was an arrow licked with poison. Gunshots still echoed painfully in my ears, and everything seemed to be moving really too slow. I stumbled again, this time crashing to my knees with my arms spread, spear in the right hand. It was almost biblical, in some sick twisted sense of fashionable rudeness.

My lips moved, croaking out weakly. "Steven...R-Rogers-s..."

I never used his full name, which was in fact Steven instead of Steve. But I had come to learn if you wanted his undivided attention, you called him by that name. I just hoped he could me, see me, anything. The super soldier would get me out of here. Above all, he'd do that for me.

The knees of mine numbed on the debris covered concrete floor, propelling me forward to spread across the ground; A carpet oozing fresh blood from hidden wounds woven into its being. My heart was beating wildly, which at least was minor consolation. It meant I could pump fresh blood to my wound, but also meant I was at risk to bleeding out. Dying due to blood loss wasn't exactly the way I was wanting to die. Hell, I hadn't even planned on dying today, though when does anyone?

I laid there, unsure of how much time was passing. My small body was suffering from intensive shock, which was expected from someone as petite as me. The wound would also be quite dangerous, since a stout body meant I could have gotten a more serious injury than I had predicted. I counted in my head the breaths I took, keeping up a steady rhythm. One..Two..Three..

While I was a heap of nothing on the ground, Captain America went literally ape-shit on the enemy's asses. Buck and James (James being my awesome British wearing the awesome red beret) had heard my name being called out, and swiftly rained their angry terror upon the HYDRA grunts, the others following in their footsteps. James had promptly shot a bullseye at the fighter who had got me, and took great pleasure in doing so. Buck had even ceremoniously shot the corpse in the forehead with a grim yet vengeful expression, while Steve had rage quitted in his own way by charging like a rhino at the remaining HYDRA gunmen with his shield and pistol.

Then with such a feverently speed that I never was even aware of, Steve was at my side. I was blocking everything out in a struggle to stay conscious, and Buck joined his old-time friend in a flash. Things had become a _lovely_ hot mess...

"_Amelia_..._Amelia_...C'mon, **_Amelia_**!"

I stirred, slowly moving my arms around me to push myself up. My left shoulder screamed in protest, and the pain shooting up my arm crumpled me. I let out a weak cry, two pairs of hands carefully but quickly ghosting around my upper body to grab my torso and a good arm. Another person slipped the spear from my grasp, and I scrambled awkwardly to my feet with two large people flanking my sides.

"Red, can you hear me? Nod, fidget, or something."

_Barnes_, I thought. Adjusting myself at a weird angle, I bobbed by head stiffly.

"Thank _God_! Now, is there anything else hurt besides your shoulder? Legs, back... Anything?"

I tilted my head in his direction, trying to refocus my blurry eyes. Colors finally became faces and places, and I looked into the nice brown eyes of Bucky. Smiling weakly, I responded with a strained voice, "I think m-my knees were th-throughly bruised, but I'm fine every-rywhere else if th-that makes you feel b-better, Antlers."

Someone on my other side chuckled, but stopped shortly after. He held my torso, while Barnes was holding my right arm securely in his callousing hands. Farther ahead of us was James and Dugan, the latter being my cheery bowler hat jokester. James had my spear in his left hand, holding his firearm in his other. The rest of our team covered us just in case more were on the way, which I felt there were.

My brain was fogging, and Buck could see it. He kept on jostling me lightly, telling me that "If you fall asleep, I will personally make sure you never marry a single man when the war is over," or something along those lines. Then I heard Steve's voice, reprimanding his old pal. I could almost see his misplaced blush in the middle of all this, helmet on his head.

Our crew just made it out of the hangar bay, moving as fast as they can to the Jeeps. Did I ever mention we made it around with old-fashioned military jeeps with the ratty engines and uncomfortable leather seats? Well, that's what we used. I hated them with a fiery passion, and even went as far as to sit on both Steve's and Barne's laps just to get a better cushion then the damn seats. Of course they all thought I was crazy as fuck and Steve protested against me each time, but he still lost in any argument when I was involved.

But now I was thinking those leather seats would be heaven compared to the shit I just went through. Upon being handed to Buck, it finally dawned on me that Steve had been the one to support my opposite side. He swiveled around in the direction of the hangar, clicking the button while vaulting over the driver's door and promptly 'ditching the taco stand.'

A half mile out in the bumpy jeep, the place blew up. I was paling, barely even keeping my eyes open. I was propped up in the back seat, wrapped partly in one of our rough wool blankets. Pieces of torn clothing, rags, anything my male companions could get their hands on was wadded up and pressed to my shoulder. Though I wasn't that aware of my surroundings, I could tell I, wrapped up, was laid across three people and James was the one manning my wound.

Everybody was shouting. The other jeep was silent as far as I could tell, though I really couldn't tell water for dish water for my life at that moment. Steve was yelling at them for updates, along with orders at me not to fall asleep. Buck was ranting right back at Steve calm down, and then James was bellowing between Dugan and Buck the state of his healing operation on me.

My mind became a jumble of madness, and I just groaned in my pain and croaked, "Jesus G-Guys, have some respect for a wom-man's ears. What I need right now is five sh-hots of Vodka and the rest of it on my-my wou-und..."

But I couldn't keep it together enough, and faded to black as they all increased in volume.

* * *

_I stood staring motionless, the world alit with neon greens of all shades sizzling by with a resonating hum. Like a static television, the view blinked into existence. I was home, standing on my large plot of land with my dogs bouncing around in the thick brush. The crows were dancing in the wind, diving at the dogs now and again in play. The singular male hawk screeched high above, swooping lower and landing on a branch of a redwood._

_A building hum of power echoed in my ears, then the greens devoured it all. I cried, pain in my shoulder. Why did I have it there? What was the reason? The lights moved faster, erratic. If possible I collapsed, seemingly falling... Falling and falling into the green madness that **T I M E** induced upon me._

_Something viciously yanked at the insides of my shoulder, summoning a scream I never knew I was capable of. Then again. And again. And again. My screaming continued, and I flailed. Unseen phantoms held me down unwaveringly, so strong and firm. I fought wildly as that tugging sensation went on, going insane within my own waking hysteria of green. The green..._

_Then a grip slipped, and I in retaliation kicked out blindly. It faltered, only to come back. I swung the freed leg out again, stopping the suppression on my right arm. Came back it did, with greater strength than I could handle. With a single effortless push, I went down restrained again. Pressure curled around my waist, and I could no longer move successfully._

_I cried out in fury, "Why do you do this to me, dammit?! Why!? Why keep me held here in this place in the **T I M E**, with all this god damn pain?! Let me go back, **let me go back**!"_

_Something came out, and my left shoulder finally just throbbed. Raw throbbing, as if a gaping hole was left behind. The green slowed, and I watched as the world flickered a few times to change. It was the hiking trail in Lassen Peak National Park, the sleeping volcano looming in the backdrop of the sky. A few wisps of cloud flew slowly by, and the fine e young redwoods made small groves along the empty highway road. I was laying flat on that road, gazing at the shadow of the fine peak. My family and I had went there when I was younger, and it had been my favorite place back then._

_Flickering again, I was laying down still, but in the rickety bunk inside my shed at the hidden base for the Super Soldier program. It morphed, becoming my bedroom when I was a baby. Morphing again, it was my sister's bedroom whilst I was at the age of five. My memories of my world, my universe, flew by as I laid unmoving._

_ I wanted it back. I wanted my family back. I wanted to see my friends again. I wanted my home back, my pets back, and my land back. I wanted to feel no pain. I wanted there never to be the one to get __**T I M E**__._

_Yet that would never happen. There would be no freedom. All that was open to me was the past, a past my ancestors had suffered. The War. War. war. WAR..._

_...The green would make me last an eternity, and that in itself was the curse; the denial of serenity..._

* * *

Steve sat in on of the jeeps, his gloved hands grasping both sides of the wheel in front him. His helmet was discarded in the seat next to him, along with his trusty shield. The rounded disc of metal had faint embellishments on its surface, paint scraped off from bullets. I laid quietly in the back seat, spread across three empty seats with blankets, rags, and canvas covers wrapped around my prone form to protect me from the cold night air. I wasn't conscious, but I finally settled down after struggling in my sleep.

Both jeeps had been parked somewhere deep in a forest, nestled next to two thick pines. The rest of the men, not counting Steve, had made a medium-sized fire a few feet away. Rogers could faintly feel the warmth that it radiated, but that wasn't his main concern.

It was me.

All of them had been frantic after I had lost consciousness, but everybody knew it was their Captain that was taking it the hardest. As soon as they had found that small amount of cover behind the pines, Morita, the Asian who had a large family back home, along with Gabe, the savy black man, had personally engineered a tent using a tarp and a leftover car axel.

The tent itself was made by hammering the axel into the trunk of a pine, then anchoring the tarp over the back seat of the jeep. It worked enough to provide sufficient cover, which was just what they all needed. Following that, James a quickly set to work on freeing part of my shoulder without revealing too much of my body to the rest of them. Steve was looming over the operation, making the rest of the guys nervous As they watched James.

But what was so firmly etched into Steve Rogers' mind was the extraction of the bullet. As I erratically dreamt of pain, James had taken a pair of large tweezers to my shoulder. Seconds into the extraction, James needed the men to hold me down. Each of them grabbed an arm or a leg, as well as Buck putting a securing hand at the base of my neck and lower armpit. Steve had never seen something so terrifying in his life. He had been terrified for his mother when she had gotten pneumonia, then completely heartbroken when she had died.

Yet this, this terrified the Captain beyond words. I was battling them in my coma like mad, twisting and screaming in a flurry of pain. I screamed at them so bad, my throat had become raw. Blood was everywhere, and their uniforms soon were stained with different amounts of crimson.

Then I surprised them when I started saying coherent phrases. Steve and the rest of them had been briefed on the fact I was a time traveler, but he never knew how much anguish I felt about it. Rogers never felt he should ask, being a gentleman who would give me space. But, he heard me, and then understood.

Somehow I had freed myself about a third of the way through, and had throughly surprised everyone by landing a few good blows to Dugan and Buck with only my right arm and leg. Then Steve decided to intervene, a hard look on his face as he easily restrained me with one arm around my waist and the other bracing my freed limbs.

The bullet was taken out, and I still squirmed in his arms. A good deal of coaxing on all their part finally calmed me down, and Steve found himself right where he was: Sitting in the driver's seat of his jeep, brooding.

My eyes flashed open, and I paused. _Was that all a dream?_ I remembered the green, and the pain. Deciding it would be better to move than to act like a bump on a log, I attempted to sit up.

And damn, it hurt. "Crap!" I rasped, falling back into the seats and cradling my shoulder with my right arm.

Steve turned so fast in his seat, it looked painful. I turned to the sound of the seats creaking, only to meet bright blue-gray eyes. The super soldier broke out into such a smile of relief that it was pulling at the strings of my heart.

"Amelia!" he cried, moving his body and swinging over the seat backs to crouch awkwardly by me. Steve didn't care though, and I didn't either.

I gave him a one armed hug around his neck, my head resting in his muscled shoulders. The super soldier tenderly hugged back, extremely careful of my wound. I sighed, thankful I was still around and kicking.

"Jesus, Steve," I rasped in his ear, "I'm still alive."

"I wasn't about to let you die, Amelia. None of us were," was his honest response.

I smiled faintly, "Good to know I still have the knack for making good friends."

"Red! Doll, you gave all of us such a scare!"

I let go of Steve, only to be nearly tackled by Barnes. Yelping in surprise, I was shocked he could move so fast. "Antlers, are you trying to break me further? I would like to be able to breathe, thank you!"

Old Bucky chuckled, letting me go too. The rest of the guys had crowded the jeep, and I laughed hoarsely. Each of them smiled in their own way, then handed me a canteen full of water. I took a few good gulps, then handing it back with a grateful thank you.

"So," I started, "How long have I been out?"

"A few hours, actually," said James.

"Well, that's good I guess."

"No," said James, "You should be sleeping a lot more, resting like a mummy in a tomb, and eating like the bloody Queen of England! Now, I think Rogers will agree with me that you should sit the next few missions out. Just until you have mobility in the shoulder..."

I groaned, "Philips is going to _love_ this... He'll probably go on his crazy rant about Redskins 'being the bane of warring peoples' and shit like that! Great, just bloody motherfucking **_great_**!"

I threw my one arm up in anger, then let it fall with a sigh. "Look on the bright side, Red," spoke Bucky, "We get to draw straws on whose going to babysit you first!"

I gave him a look, and the men bellowed with laughter. Rolling my eyes, I shifted my position and finally was able to sit up. "If you guys are done laughing yet, I'd love to have something to eat."

They nodded, heading back to the fire. All except Barnes and Steve, who sat up in the front of the jeep to watch over me. We were quiet for a few minutes, until Steve spoke up.

"I'm sorry I put you in harm's way."

Turning sharply, I looked straight at him, "What?"

"I said, I'm sorry I put you in harm's way. You went to take out those flamethrowers for me, and I should have made you stay with me. I was frustrated that you even came to help me, and I let that frustration go to my head. I was at fault, and I'm sorry."

I blinked a few times, dumbfounded. Barnes looked pretty miffed too, which meant he was just as confused as I was.

"Steven Rogers," I said sharply, gaining a wide-eyed look from him, "You may be a good strategist, and a smart man when the going gets tough, but when you try and deal with your personal problems, you're just horrible. I didn't just jump at those flamethrowers to protect you, I jumped at those flamethrowers so I could cover the team. Don't you think for a god damn _second_ that it was because of you, or I swear on the grave of my grandpa that I will filet you with my spear!"

The super soldier had his back braced against the wheel in mild worry from my anger, but then, "You're right, you're right. I'm taking on guilt that I shouldn't be feeling. It's just... Why does it have to be me?"

I cocked my head to the side, glancing at Barnes then looking back at the super soldier, "What do you mean, Steve?"

"Why does it have to be me, Amelia? I have all this strength, but for what? You got wounded, and we aren't even half way to our goal. Kill or be killed, I don't even want it anymore. I came for Bucky, and you followed. It's a mess.

I shook my head, then staring firmly into Steve's blue-gray eyes,"Let me explain something to you, Steve. Listen closely, because i'm not going to repeat myself...

"This war is insane, I know. I've read about it in history books from the future, I saw pictures on display in memorials. Hell, my grandfather's father served in this war in the engineering core! But you, Steven Rogers, are something that I didn't have back in my dimension. You were an idea, a sketch that became a best-selling comic series for teens. There was nobody like you in the war, and nobody with the sense of morality as you do.

"People are cruel creatures, beasts that run a world based on profits and consumers. They also base their society on belief, religion. Due to their clinging need for those things, as well as their motivation to climb to the top, civilizations have risen and crashed to rock bottom. It still runs the world in the future, only on a more maddening scale.

"Yet, as a young adult who had come from a time period in the future, we learn nothing in comparison to you guys here in the past. Kids have no respect, no motivation, and a lack of discipline that you seem to have. I only came out as I did because my mother and father were extremely old-fashioned, and tried their hardest to equip my sister and I with the education we needed for the big world with what low amount of funds they had.

"Since I found myself here, I have learned more than I thought I could. From Peggy, I learned to protect myself. From Barnes here, I learned to really live life with optimism. And from Stark, I learned so much more about engineering than I ever imagined!"

I sighed, realizing I was starting to ramble. "What I am trying to say, Steve, is that you have a place. Your place, is making sure shit doesn't go crazy; To protect the future children of the next generation. My place, much to my displeasure and loathing, is being a time traveler that aids you and anyone else I meet. So... Don't start letting the world get to you, because it depends on you. _Time changes us all, Steve_. Your change came, and now you take that change and use it to your advantage."

Barnes and Rogers stared at me, unsure how to respond. They never heard me say anything so... _deep_ before, and it left them speechless. But Rogers understood, because he understood me. I had used myself as an example, and both of us had some part to play in the scheme of things. He was just dragging around in guilt. And now was not the time to let it take over. The super soldier nodded, a faint smile on his lips. Barnes smiled too, glad his friend seemed to have improved thanks to my long pep-talk.

"You really have a way with words, did you know that?"

I openly laughed at Rogers, who joined in shortly after. We calmed, then sat in silence. A moments later, food was handed out and eaten, then we all prepared for sleep. Steve took it upon himself to sleep on the floor of the jeep next to me, not even blushing at the idea. _When did that change? _I didn't question it further, as my chest tightened and stomach fluttered with gooey butterflies. Whatever was going to happen, I was just happy I was still alive, with Steve and all my buddies along beside me.

I only dreaded the moment when I vanished with a flash of green, leaving Steve to take it on all his own as our friends died around us.


End file.
